


Hope is the thing with feathers

by SlantedKnitting



Series: big bangs and challenges [20]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Wings, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Fantasy, M/M, Magic, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Modern Era, Modern Royalty, Plague, Wings, magical plague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:08:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 44,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25860358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlantedKnitting/pseuds/SlantedKnitting
Summary: Merlin lives in a world where magic is outlawed and members of the royal family have wings. The trouble is that he has magic, and he has wings, and he is decidedly not royal. It's a lonely, confusing, unenviable life, but it's his, and he does what he can to manage.Then Prince Arthur, openly gay and proudly displaying his wings, bursts onto the scene at Merlin's work. All Merlin wants are answers about why he has wings when he's not a royal, but he doesn't want to give himself away.As the prince gets closer and closer to Merlin's truth, Merlin learns about his own family secrets, about Princess Morgana's plot to bring magic back to the kingdom, and about how Prince Arthur's life isn't as perfect as it seems.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: big bangs and challenges [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1172240
Comments: 75
Kudos: 333
Collections: After Camlann Big Bang





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Art: Hope is the thing with feathers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25832560) by [LFB72](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LFB72/pseuds/LFB72). 



> Immense thanks to [aoigensou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aoigensou) for wrangling my typos and [ji-ang](https://ji-ang.tumblr.com/) for wrangling my whole fic.
> 
> And un-ending thanks to my wonderful artist, [LFB72](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LFB72/pseuds/LFB72)! I was so excited when she agreed to work with me - there's literally no one else I would have wanted bringing these winged characters to life. I love her style and I'm so excited for everyone to get to see what she's done. It's exactly what I was hoping for and she's been such a delight to work with.
> 
> As always, thanks to the mods for running this fest for another great year :)
> 
> This fic was based off [this old KMM prompt](https://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/36623.html?thread=41802255#t41802255) because sometimes I still comb through those for inspiration. Thanks to whoever came up with this idea!
> 
> Title taken from [this](https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/5920-hope-is-the-thing-with-feathers-that-perches-in-the) Emily Dickinson poem.

[ ](https://imgur.com/LKjZciI)

[ ](https://imgur.com/gK9QEIf)

Merlin frowned, thinking he'd just seen lightning, except that it didn't sound like rain, and, besides, his eyes were closed. It must have just been the last traces of a dream. He pressed his face to the pillow and let sleep overtake him again.

Some seconds or maybe minutes later, he woke again, registering the click of a camera. He sat up with a muffled groan, and his stiff muscles protested the movement. His head was heavy and dull—he was barely awake.

"Hey." The man Merlin had slept with the night before was standing innocently by the bedroom door, smiling like he hadn't just taken a picture of Merlin’s naked form.

Merlin blinked to clear his vision. "Hey," he said cautiously. "Did you just…"

"Hm? Just texting my flatmate," the man said, trying to appear innocent even though the flash and sound of his mobile's camera had already given him away.

Merlin stood, his body still tingling with sleep. He crossed the room and grabbed the mobile out of the man’s hands, seeing the picture he'd just taken.

"What the fuck?" he demanded.

"Sorry," the man said, not looking or sounding especially sorry. "I couldn't help it. It's too good."

"It's not 'too good', it's my fucking life. Delete it," Merlin said firmly.

"But—"

"Delete it," Merlin said again, scowling a little.

The man sighed and deleted the photo. Then, before he could do anything else, Merlin reached out and touched his forehead. His gaze went vacant, his jaw went slack, and his grip went limp. His mobile fell to the floor.

Merlin picked it up, deleted the photo from the mobile's trash, and skimmed through the man's messages to make sure he hadn't sent it to anyone. Then he pulled on a shirt and pants before touching the man's forehead again, pooling his magic at his fingertips, concentrating on a false memory of the morning and the night before.

He took his hand away and the man gasped.

"Here," Merlin said, handing over the mobile.

"Oh," the man said blankly. "Thanks. Was I just…" He frowned down at his mobile, looking a little lost.

"You were just leaving," Merlin said. "Your flatmate."

"Right. He… needs me at home," the man said vaguely. Then he snapped out of it. "I'll phone you, yeah?"

"Mhm." Merlin gently nudged the man out into the living room. "Thanks for coming over."

"Yeah." The man smiled. "Anytime. Did I get your number?"

"Yes," Merlin lied. "Text me whenever."

"'Kay." The man moved forward for a kiss, and Merlin allowed it briefly. "Have a good rest of your morning."

"Yup, you too."

The man finally left, and Merlin locked the door behind him.

"Fucking _again_ ," he muttered. Somehow he always picked the wrong men to sleep with. They could never just let things lie. They always had to try to go after their 15 minutes of fame or a small fortune or whatever they thought they could get by exposing him.

Moving away from the door, Merlin stripped off his shirt and stretched out his wings. Bringing them forward, he adjusted a few feathers that had got rumpled during his sleep and then ran his hands over what he could reach of their leading edges. Stepping out of his briefs, he headed towards the shower, hoping the rest of his day would be better than how it started.

  
~~~~  


Merlin could remember the first time he realised he was different. And then the second time. And the third. Really, he'd never exactly had a normal or expected life. He'd been born with magic, after all. And the wings. And then he'd turned out gay. There was nothing easy about any part of it, and some days all Merlin wanted to do was climb to the top of the Shard and take off.

His wings weren't actually big enough to support human flight, though. But they were big enough to knock things off his shelves if he turned too quickly. They were big enough to wrap around his mother in a warm, feathery hug. They were big enough to be almost impossible to hide.

And he did have to hide them. Only royalty had wings. It had been that way for centuries, possibly even longer. Any mention of ordinary citizens with wings was something to be laughed at. In folklore, winged commoners were always painted as thieves, as if they'd somehow stolen something from the divine crown. Merlin knew he hadn't stolen anything, but that didn't mean he had any kind of explanation as to why he was born with wings when he wasn’t a member of the royal family.

When he was younger, he used to dream of running away to the palace and showing his wings to King Uther, who would immediately recognise and embrace Merlin as his long-lost son. Merlin never knew his father, after all, and even though his mother had sworn to him that it wasn't the king, Merlin had kept that fantasy for years. He wanted answers, he wanted to fit in, he wanted to be able to display his wings as proudly as the royal family did.

As he grew older, Merlin gave up those fantasies and found himself more and more frustrated with the royal family. They had no idea how good they had it, being able to display their wings like it was nothing. They could be proud and visible, and they didn't have to hide such an integral part of who they were.

Merlin was jealous.

Not that being embraced as a royal would really help. It might have given him answers and the freedom to show off his wings, but he'd have to hide his magic even more than he already did. The king had outlawed magic before he was born, fearing that magic users would one day usurp his throne. He had worked tirelessly to banish—or at least terrorise into submission—any and all magic users, leaving their kingdom magicless and safe.

Merlin didn't want a life under that kind of scrutiny from the king. He wanted to be able to use his magic proudly, and display his wings proudly, the same way he was able to be a proudly gay man. He hated having to hide himself.

But, hide himself he did. It had taken years—decades—of practice, but he could hide his wings. He just had to fold them up and wear his tightest vest. Sometimes if he wanted to wear a fitted shirt or feel extra confident that they were hidden, he even wore a compression vest. And then he just had to be careful not to fidget. When he was alone and topless, he had a habit of stretching out his wings, folding them back in, raising them up, bringing them back down. He liked the feeling, he liked the sound of rustling feathers, he liked the freedom. It was difficult to master those impulses when he was wearing clothes.

Sometimes when he was desperate, he used his magic to restrict his wings. He could put a binding spell on them, strapping them firmly to his back with nothing but some invisible pressure. It was uncomfortably restrictive, though. And he didn’t want to use his magic in that way, to further hide himself. He wanted to use his magic to express himself. His magic could be beautiful, and he didn’t want it to be a limiting force.

He had to moderate so much of himself, of his life that sometimes he went a bit overboard with the parts he was allowed to share. The gay thing, for example, had been an overlarge part of his identity at uni. He'd worn rainbows every single day, desperate to be and feel as much like himself as he could, to show the world as much of himself as he could, since there was so much else he had to hide.

He'd calmed his wardrobe down after a few years. Now he wore rainbows just some of the time. He worked at a charity that had a strong presence in the gay community, which helped him feel known and visible and seen without having to shout out his gayness in vibrant colour.

The rest he still had to hide most of the time. Some of his friends knew about his magic, and everyone he slept with knew about his wings. His family—all two of them, his mum and his best friend Will—knew about both. With all the dangers that came with his many secrets, two people knowing all of him was enough, but one day, maybe, if he found someone he wanted to spend his life with, there would be a third.

[ ](https://imgur.com/XwosZZd)

  
~~~~  


Arthur looked like he was about to be sick all over the dining table. He was pale, he was sweaty, and—if Morgana's eyes weren't deceiving her—he was shaking.

She couldn't blame him. He was about to upend the delicate balance of their little family unit. He was about to dash his father's dreams for the future of their line. He was about to change the course of history.

Uther, on the other hand, looked unconcerned. He didn't seem to have noticed Arthur's rapidly increasing panic. He was barely paying attention to either of his children, choosing instead to focus on the steak he was having for dinner. In fact, Morgana had been talking for several minutes, but Uther wasn't giving any signs he had heard a word she'd said.

That wasn't especially unusual. Morgana and her father were rarely on speaking terms, and this dinner wasn't really mitigating the damage done from their last fight. If anything, that Uther was ignoring her so easily was only making Morgana even angrier.

She watched as Arthur took a shaky breath, and she gave up on her monologue to give him an encouraging nod. She had promised to be there for him when shit hit the fan with Uther, and she was ready.

"Father," Arthur said, his voice more unsure than Morgana had ever heard it.

"Hm?" Uther didn't look up from his plate.

"Father, I wanted to speak with you about something."

Uther waved his hand as if to say, 'go ahead'.

Arthur glanced at Morgana again, and she nodded again. It was time. He cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, his voice was more sure, more steady.

"I wanted to let you know…" Arthur looked down at his plate and swallowed grimly. "I'm gay."

Morgana kept her eyes on Uther, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Surely this was the moment where Arthur would lose his golden child status and Uther would finally snap at him the way he'd always snapped at Morgana.

Uther finished chewing his bite slowly, and then he closed his eyes and sat in stillness and silence for a long while. Arthur glanced between his father and Morgana, looking confused and upset and still vaguely ill.

Finally, Uther cleared his throat, opened his eyes, and pushed back his chair. He dropped his napkin on the table and left the room.

Arthur pushed his chair back and made a move to follow, but then the door slammed, and he slumped instead. He exhaled a soft 'fuck' and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands over the back of his neck. He hung his head, his breathing shallow.

Morgana took a long gulp of wine. So much for Arthur being the golden child.

But also so much for her being able to swoop in and save the day by keeping the peace.

Neither of them had expected that kind of reaction. Anger, yes, disbelief, sure, a demand that Arthur keep his dirty secrets to himself, why not. But silence and simply walking away? Morgana wasn't sure what to do with that, not when it came to Arthur. Usually Uther only left the room when he was upset with Morgana, and that always set into motion a long period of mutual dislike and very little communication. He'd never before reacted that way to anything Arthur had ever said or done.

After a while, Arthur sat back up and downed his and then their father's wine.

"Hey," Morgana said as he stood. "Are you all right?"

"Do I look all right?" Arthur hissed. He threw down his napkin and stormed out.

Morgana sighed and leaned back in her chair, stretching her legs out under the table. Uther had never treated her well—the only kind thing he'd ever done was adopt her after her real parents had died in a car accident—but he'd always favoured his son. If he couldn't even bother to be decent when Arthur clearly needed him, how was he ever going to react when Morgana finally revealed her own secrets?

She had magic, and she hadn't been able to share that with anyone she loved since her parents had died. It was banned, outlawed, illegal. Any hint of her powers would land her an audience with the king, and not in a good way. 

He would never understand.

She wanted so desperately to be understood, though. She had been hoping Uther would react positively, or at least neutrally, to Arthur's coming out. Then maybe she would have a shot at a similar reaction to herself. Now she knew there had never been any reason to expect anything decent out of the man.

Which meant she was going to have to take matters into her own hands. It was time. It was long past time. Time for her to show him, to show them all, what magic could do when it wasn't being hidden away.

  
~~~~  


Merlin was sprawled out across his best mate's sofa, staring mournfully up at the ceiling. The lumpy cushions were digging into him in an uncomfortable way, but he couldn't be bothered to readjust. He had a beer in one hand, but he had lost his interest in it, preferring to dwell in his patheticness rather than drown it.

Yet another man he'd hooked up with had tried to exploit him and his wings. _Another_ one. That brought the count up to four, and that was just out of the six men he'd gone out with this year. It was a miserable ratio.

"Not _all_ of them have tried to take advantage of you," Will said reasonably.

Merlin grunted. "Enough of them have."

"Doesn't mean you should shut yourself off. I'm sure there are plenty of decent men out there. Have you ever tried, you know, talking to any of them about it beforehand?"

"What would be the point?" Merlin asked. "If they can't be trusted, they can't be trusted."

"Could be helpful to find that out sooner rather than later," Will pointed out.

Merlin sighed. "I guess. It doesn't matter. No one can handle my wings, and no one's ever going to be able to handle my magic. I might as well give up now."

"There's got to be someone out there," Will said.

"Where?" Merlin sighed again and scratched his forehead, bored with their conversation. He was going to take a break from dating, no matter what Will said. He'd had enough close calls lately, and he was sick of having to use his magic to protect himself. He didn't like messing with people's minds, even if those same people didn’t show the same regard for his body or privacy.

"You'll find one someday," Will said bracingly. "Until then, there's always _Bake Off_."

Merlin snorted and sat up a little, taking a sip of his beer as Will turned on the telly. It opened on the news, and before Will could change the channel, Merlin caught sight of the ticker at the bottom of the screen.

"Wait," he said, leaning closer to get a better look.

"—confirmed this morning in an official statement, the Prince says that he will continue to focus on his charity work," the newscaster was saying.

The ticker read: PRINCE ARTHUR COMES OUT

There was a photo of Prince Arthur on the screen, his wings on proud display. Despite the shock of the news, Merlin still felt his usual pang of jealousy and annoyance that the prince could put himself on display like that. And now it seemed he was putting even more of himself out there.

"What in the fuck?" Will asked.

"What this means for the future of the royal family is unclear," the reporter said. He seemed to be barely containing his glee at being able to break such a big story.

"This can't be real," Will said, talking over the news. "It has to be some kind of hoax."

"Why would they be reporting it if it was a hoax?" Merlin asked. "Can you imagine the scandal?"

" _This_ is a scandal," Will said, gesturing at the telly. "The prince is fucking gay!"

Merlin snorted and then folded forward with a groan. The prince was gay. The heir to the throne, the renowned philanthropist, the most beautiful man the royal family had seen in generations—and he was gay. And he was _out_.

He was out and proud, and his wings were on display, and Merlin's life could never be that good. He was never going to find someone to share himself with. The prince was living his best life, and Merlin was stuck on Will's sofa watching it from afar.

"I'm fucking speechless," Will muttered. "This is un-fucking-believable."

"It's not _that_ wild," Merlin said, feeling slightly offended. "Gay men exist."

"Obviously. Never thought _he'd_ be one of them, though."

"No," Merlin agreed. Then he finished off his beer, trying to push through his irrational jealousy. "Maybe I'll just be celibate," he said, mostly to himself.

"Don't you dare use that word in this house," Will said.

Merlin smirked and went to get another beer, ready to settle in for a long evening of _Bake Off_.

  
~~~~  


Merlin woke up the next morning at an unreasonably early hour when his mobile rang.

“What?” he asked groggily, placing the mobile next to his head on the pillow. His boss was calling, but he knew Gaius wouldn't be offended by his rude greeting.

"Are you awake?"

"I am now," Merlin muttered. The last time Gaius had called him before work, there'd been a flood in the office building. Merlin wasn’t in the mood for another disaster.

"We’re having an all-hands-on-deck meeting right at nine," Gaius said.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "You didn't need to call to tell me that. I'm always there by nine."

"I know, I know, it's…" Gaius trailed off, and Merlin waited, letting his eyes drift shut. "I just didn't want you to be surprised. This is going to affect you directly."

Merlin opened his eyes again. That didn’t sound very good. "What's going on?" he asked warily.

"The prince…" Gaius trailed off again.

Merlin frowned up at his ceiling. What on earth did the prince coming out have to do with their AIDS charity?

"What about him?" Merlin prompted.

"His people phoned Freya," Gaius said as if that explained anything.

Freya was their Executive Director of Communications. She or someone on her staff were always on call for the organisation, ready to spin a story or promote their brand at any opportunity.

"And?" Merlin asked, still trying to put the pieces together.

"He wants to partner with us."

Hm. Merlin sat up, stretching out his wings with a groan.

Gaius's words hit Merlin’s brain a few seconds later. The prince wanted to partner with their charity. Merlin was the Executive Director of Transformation, in charge of vetting everything new—all campaigns, all projects, all efforts, all operations.

He was going to have to find something for the prince to do. The prince! With his perfectly styled hair and his glorious wings and his perfect life and his glorious good looks and his fresh status as an openly gay man. The bloody prince.

"Merlin?" Gaius asked when Merlin didn’t respond.

"Yeah," Merlin croaked. "Yeah. I'll see you at the meeting."

He hung up and went to shower, trying to let the news sink in.

The prince had always been generous to charities. Merlin supposed it shouldn't be too much of a surprise that he would want to partner with the Avalon Trust. They were the leading AIDS charity in the UK, and if the prince was going to partner with anyone in the field, it made sense that it would be them.

It was still a bold move, especially considering he'd come out barely 24 hours before. None of the royals had ever done any HIV activism before. Prince Arthur must have felt compelled now that he had a public connection to one of the communities affected by the virus.

All Merlin could do was hope he wouldn't have to interact too closely with the man himself. Despite his childhood fantasies, he had no desire to interact with the prince. He didn't need that kind of up close and personal reminder of everything he could never have.

When Merlin got to work after a leisurely breakfast, he found everyone in panic mode. Even Gaius looked frazzled, which Merlin found very amusing. He wouldn't have guessed that Gaius would be so disarmed at the prospect of interacting with royalty. They were still people, after all. They were fancy people, sure, but they were just people. Or maybe Merlin had just always felt a kinship with them, what with the wings and all.

The staff meeting turned out to be short. It was packed, though. Every single person in the office was crowded into their largest conference room even though the news didn’t directly impact most of them. Everyone wanted to hear it for themselves.

Freya gave a quick rundown of her phone conversation—the prince would arrive at their office the next day to discuss the potential partnership—and then Gaius gave a few words of caution. He didn't want anyone gawking over the prince. Everyone was to conduct business as usual.

Merlin thought the advice was laughable. Surely someone would make a fool of themselves by fawning, and no amount of warning was going to prevent that.

When the meeting was dismissed, Merlin went straight to Freya's office to strategise how they could best use the prince to further their mission.

It turned into a long day. After they came up with a few ideas, Gaius had interrupted their meeting to advise that they should put everything together in a presentation for the prince. They ended up spending the afternoon constructing a PowerPoint, which felt like the world’s lamest way to communicate their ideas with the fucking _prince_ , but they didn't have time for anything else.

By the time Merlin got home, he was exhausted and, despite his best efforts at nonchalance and usual resentment for royalty, nervous. He was nervous to meet the prince. He was nervous not to give himself and his wings away. He'd never imagined he would really come into contact with anyone from the royal family. He didn’t know what he should do.

He knew what he _wanted_ to do. Despite all the difficult feelings he had around the prince, Merlin wanted to speak with him alone.

Depending on how the meeting went, he may never have another chance. He _had_ to do it. He had to ask if Prince Arthur knew of anyone outside of his family who had wings. He had to know what it meant, how he'd come to have them, how he fit into the bigger picture. Prince Arthur's family had had wings for generations upon generations—if anyone was going to know the secrets of having wings, it was going to be him.

Merlin would just have to figure out how to ask without giving himself away.

  
~~~~  


Arthur slept fitfully, anxious for his first day at the Avalon Trust. He didn't know why he was so nervous. He'd been to plenty of other charities. This one didn't have to be any different.

It was different, though. His heart was more in it this time. It felt more real. It felt more personal.

When his alarm finally went off, he was tired but glad for the excuse to stop trying to sleep. He needed to be up and doing something. He skipped breakfast—being sleep deprived always ruined his appetite—and did a quick run on his treadmill before getting in the shower.

He wanted the day to go perfectly. He knew the Trust's executive staff was planning a presentation for him, a list of possible ways he could contribute to their cause, but he knew what he wanted to do. He'd done enough research on his own, and he knew where he wanted to make an impact.

After he was clean, he dressed in a suit that was probably a step too far on the posh side, but he didn't own much that would pass as truly casual. Besides, he wanted to make a good impression and prove that he was taking this seriously. He didn't want to show up looking sloppy and like he didn't care.

This was going to be his first official act as a newly out gay man, and he needed it to go well.

When it was time, Arthur stepped outside and got into the car waiting for him. His communications secretary, Leon, was already in the backseat. Arthur nodded in greeting and then pulled out his mobile to scroll through the news, determinedly ignoring any headline with his name. He hadn't yet caught wind of any negative reactions to his coming out, and he was hoping to keep it that way as long as possible. He didn't need anything sugar coated, but he also didn't need that negativity in his life when he was trying so hard to make something positive out of it.

He could tell by the headlines he did see—and by Leon's continued silence on the matter—that no one had picked up on Uther's disapproval yet. Sooner or later, if he didn't issue his own statement on the matter, someone would realise that the king hadn't wanted Arthur to come out, hadn't appreciated Arthur going rogue with the news, hadn't spoken to his son in weeks.

Arthur put away his mobile and tried not to dwell on that. He had better things to think about, especially on a day like today.

The ride turned out not to be very long. He and Leon were dropped off in front of a nondescript office building, two of his security guards joining them from a car that had been following his.

"That should be the chief executive," Leon said as they approached the building and the elderly man waiting outside of it. "Gaius Meddyg."

"Mr Meddyg," Arthur said, holding out his hand when he reached the man. "Thank you so much for having me."

"Of course," Gaius said, looking only slightly awed by Arthur's presence. "Thank you so much for coming. May I escort you upstairs?"

"Please." Arthur and his entourage followed Gaius inside and over to the lifts. They were small, rickety things, and Arthur jostled into Leon as theirs jerked into motion.

"I hope you're hungry," Gaius said when they reached the third floor.

Arthur's heart sank a little. "I hope you didn't go to any trouble—"

"No trouble at all," Gaius said with a smile. "Right this way."

As Arthur had dreaded yet expected, what looked like the entire Trust staff was lined in the hallway as he got out of the lift. He offered everyone his best smile as he followed Gaius to the kitchen. There was an impressive buffet laid out on the counters, and Arthur politely put a few grapes on a plate, still not hungry from his lack of sleep.

"Would you like anything else?" Gaius asked, looking dismayed.

Arthur hurried to grab a scone as well. He gave Leon a pointed look, and Leon made himself a heaping plate of goodies.

"We have a conference room set up," Gaius said, gesturing for Arthur to continue following up.

Arthur nodded for his security detail to stay in the kitchen and went after Gaius, coming to a stop in a large room with wide windows offering a not especially breathtaking view.

He and Leon took a seat, as well as Gaius, and after a moment they were joined by two other Trust staff members. One was a small, pretty woman, and the other was a tall, almost striking man. He had a flop of brown hair that wasn't exactly tamed, cheekbones that stood out even under the harsh fluorescent lights of the office, and a nervous sort of smile.

Arthur forced himself to look away from the newcomers as they sat down.

"Your Royal Highness," Gaius said, pulling everyone's attention to him. "We are so very pleased to have you here. This is Freya Bastet and Merlin Emrys, two of our executive staff. They have some ideas for what our partnership could look like."

Arthur nodded at them both, trying not to let his gaze linger on Merlin. He was handsome in a strange sort of way, pretty in another. Arthur wanted to stare and dissect the strange angles of his face.

For his part, Merlin seemed to be avoiding looking at the prince.

"Thank you so much for having me," he said, brushing past Merlin's rudeness. He was used to that sort of awkward behaviour. He gestured at Leon. "This is my friend, Leon Knight."

There was an awkward moment of silence in the room, and then Freya jumped to her feet.

"Right," she said, moving around to the front of the room where the screens were. "Shall we get right into it then?" She grabbed the projector remote and started up the presentation.

Arthur sat through it, nodding along whenever Freya glanced over at him and smiling at her suggestions. He took a few notes on his mobile, noticing Leon doing the same, and hoped no one would think he wasn't paying attention.

"And…" Freya floundered a bit as she reached the end of the PowerPoint. "And that's what we've thought of so far, but we're very open to any ideas you might have, or we can spend some more time brainstorming on our end if you aren't interested in anything so far."

"No, it's all wonderful," Arthur said. "I like the more public-facing ideas. I don't want to shy away behind the scenes. You mentioned something about…" He glanced down at his mobile. "Something about a video. Were you thinking of a public information film? I'd love to get your name out there more, let people know about your services."

Freya just stared at him, forcing Gaius to jump in.

"We'd love that," he said. "We can brainstorm what it should be about and get back to you with some ideas.

"I was thinking of getting tested for HIV," Arthur said, and the room fell silent.

"In the film?" Merlin finally asked. His voice was deeper than Arthur had imagined.

Arthur nodded, looking toward Merlin, but Merlin was already looking away again. He turned back to Gaius. "To show that it's, you know, all right. If I can do it, anyone can."

"That's a very personal thing to show the world," Gaius said gently.

Arthur shrugged. "All the more reason. It shouldn't be stigmatised, right?"

"Right," Gaius agreed quickly. "If… if you're really comfortable with that—"

"I am," Arthur assured him. "Morgana will be as well."

"The princess?" Gaius asked blankly.

"Yes. She wants to support me," Arthur explained. "She offered to be involved in whatever I do here."

"If you're sure…"

"I'm sure." Arthur suspected Morgana's eagerness to show her support was more a dig at their father than a genuine display of encouragement, but he was going to take her up on her offer regardless.

Gaius nodded. "All right. We can work with your staff to figure out the logistics."

Arthur looked around, and Leon pulled out a small notebook and pen for him. He wrote down his personal number and slid the paper across the table to Gaius.

"You can work with me. That's my direct line."

Gaius's eyes widened slightly. He folded the paper up neatly and tucked it inside his jacket pocket. "Thank you. We'll be in touch."

Arthur clapped his hands together, excited at the prospect of this all actually happening, and smiled around at everyone. "Anything else?"

"We'll let you go," Gaius said quickly. "It's been an incredible honour to have you here."

"The pleasure's all mine," Arthur said. He stood, Leon following suit, and made his way around the room to shake everyone's hand.

Freya's grip was weak, her hand shaking in his, and he gave her an encouraging smile to let her know she'd done a good job with her presentation.

Merlin's grip was strong, his hand warm, and Arthur had to stop himself from glancing down at his long fingers as they shook hands. Merlin looked like he wanted to say something, and Arthur paused, giving him a chance, but then the moment stretched out too long and Arthur had to let go of him.

Gaius shepherded him and Leon back out to the kitchen where Arthur collected his security guards. He passed his plate of the untouched grapes and scone off to one of them and followed Gaius back to the lift.

"Thank you again for coming," Gaius said as they rode down to the ground floor. "This is really an incredible opportunity for us."

"And for me," Arthur said honestly. "I'm excited to help. You'll be in touch?"

Gaius nodded. They shook hands again and then Arthur led his crew outside, leaving Gaius in the lifts.

"That went well," Leon said as they climbed into the car waiting for them.

"That went very well," Arthur agreed. He took out his mobile and went to the Trust's site, pulling up the staff page and reading through everyone's bios. He started with Gaius and made his way down to Merlin, who had a master's degree in Population Health and had initiated the Trust's developing work on broader sexual health services.

He noticed Leon looking over his shoulder at his mobile and closed out of the site, deciding he would review it privately in his own time. He asked the driver to turn on the radio and opened up his calendar, resetting himself for the rest of the day.

  
~~~~  


Merlin barely had time to dwell on the fact that he had completely failed to ask Prince Arthur his questions about wings. As soon as the prince had left, he and Freya were thrown into the chaos of planning the world's most public HIV test.

They worked tirelessly with Alice, the Trust's Medical Director, and Leon on figuring out the logistics. They hired their usual technical crew to film the tests, and they wrote out several drafts for what the royal siblings might say to introduce and close the film. At the end of each day, Gaius placed a nervous call to the prince to give him updates and try to nail down a time and date for the big day.

Gaius kept suggesting dates weeks in the future, trying to be accommodating, but the prince was eager to get started, and Merlin found himself in Alice's office barely a week after that initial meeting, readying himself to face the prince again.

Merlin still harboured jealousy in every inch of his body. The prince, with his easy smile and confident posture, really had no idea how good he had it. He got to be so bloody open with his life, and all Merlin ever had to do was hide. It was infuriating to be in the same room with him.

Except for when he spoke and drew you in with his calm tones and bright eyes and soothing smile.

Not that Merlin had noticed any of those things during their first meeting.

It didn't matter, anyway. He _had_ to find a way to get the prince alone today. He had mucked it up on their first meeting, and there was no real reason to think they might ever have a third meeting. It was now or never, Merlin told himself. Whatever it took, he needed to ask Prince Arthur about wings outside of the royal family.

"Merlin," Gaius hissed from the doorway.

"Sorry." Merlin snapped out of his thoughts. "Are they here?"

" _Yes_ ," Gaius whispered, and Merlin could hear the panic in his voice.

"What's wrong?"

"Their…" Gaius managed to lower his voice even further. "Their _wings_."

Merlin shivered all the way to the tips of his own wings. Prince Arthur and Princess Morgana had their wings out? They wanted to be filmed with them on display?

At least it would give him an easy entryway into his questions.

"Come on," Gaius urged. "We're on a tight schedule."

Merlin wasn't sure that was entirely true—they had booked the prince's whole day in case they needed to do multiple takes. He followed Gaius down to one of the patient rooms anyway, dismayed when he saw how crowded it was. There was the film crew, Alice, Freya, Leon, Prince Arthur, Princess Morgana, Gaius, and now himself. The royal security detail had been forced to stand out in the hall.

The prince was dressed a little more casually than he had been at the first meeting. He'd shed his suit jacket and was standing there in just his shirt and trousers, his wings tucked cleanly behind his back. They matched his dusty blond hair but were speckled with white and darker brown spots on some of the feathers. They made him look distinctly special.

As he had been at their first meeting, Merlin was struck again at how beautiful the prince was up close. His blond hair looked sun-kissed, his broad smile looked genuine, his easy confidence looked real. He had a casual air about him, like he was just any other Avalon employee going about his daily business. He looked like he belonged, which was quite an achievement considering how much he stood out. He might have been dressed casually, but his shirt and trousers were still perfectly tailored, his broad chest and muscular arms on display as well as his wings.

Merlin's chest flared with the usual bit of resentment, and he directed his gaze toward Princess Morgana instead.

She was similarly dressed, looking very dapper in trousers and a button-up blouse. Her wings were also on display, and they were as jet black as her long hair. There were spots of slightly lighter browns, especially at the ends of her feathers, but mostly they were dark.

The princess stood a little off to the side of the prince, watching the filming crew with a distant sort of look on her face. She was beautiful up close, like her brother, although there were few similarities between them. She was pale where the prince was tanned, dark-haired where he was blond, slender where he was broad.

Not that they should look that much alike, being cousins rather than biological siblings. Still, there was no denying a family resemblance was there, especially with their wings out.

Merlin supposed he should be as jealous of the princess as he was of the prince, but it was hard to be jealous of someone who had been through so much. He certainly wasn't jealous of her parents dying or of her being thrust into the royal spotlight in the midst of her grief. He might be a little jealous of her ability to display her wings so casually, but, really, she'd earned the right.

"Okay," Gaius said, taking up a spot near the examination table. "Good morning everyone, good morning Your Royal Highnesses." Prince Arthur nodded his head in greeting. Princess Morgana did nothing to acknowledge his greeting. "We all know why we're here, and we all know how to be professional about it. Let's work as efficiently as we can so we don't take up too much of anyone's time. Is everyone ready?"

There was a round of nodding, and Gaius clapped his hands and handed things over to the director, who shuffled Alice and Prince Arthur into place without preamble and did a few lighting tests before declaring himself satisfied.

"Did you get the notes Gaius sent you?" Freya asked the prince. "We have cue cards ready if you need."

Prince Arthur smiled graciously. "I thought I'd wing it, actually."

Merlin could see Gaius blanching from his spot in the corner. Leon look annoyed but not exactly surprised.

"We had some… facts," Freya said, sounding lost. Then, in a rush, she added, "Your Highness. Your Royal Highness. I'm sorry—shit." She clapped a hand over her mouth.

Prince Arthur chuckled, and Merlin could see the princess smirking from where she was stationed near the cameraman. "I remember the facts," he said. "Promise."

Freya nodded and stepped aside, practically hiding behind Merlin.

"Smooth," he whispered. She smacked his arm.

"Quiet, please," the director called, obviously annoyed at the amount of people crowded around him and his crew. He nodded, and Prince Arthur began to speak into the camera.

"One in eight people in the UK living with HIV don't know they have it," he started, proving that he did indeed remember Freya's factsheet, "and four out of ten people are diagnosed far too late. There is still too much stigma which is stopping so many of us from getting a simple, quick, and easy test. We won't bring an end to the Human Immunodeficiency Virus until testing is seen as completely normal and accessible for everyone. Taking an HIV test is something to be proud of, not something to be ashamed or embarrassed about. It's simple—by getting tested, you are helping stop the HIV epidemic in its tracks. You are helping to save lives."

The prince paused and glanced over at Freya. "How's that?"

"Cut," the director called.

"Wonderful," Freya said. "Honestly. Much better than what we wrote for you."

Prince Arthur smiled proudly and then sat himself on the edge of the examination table. "What's next?"

"If you're ready," Alice said, pulling a small tray cart over to the table, "we can do the test."

"I'm weirdly nervous," Prince Arthur said, staring down at the supplies on the tray.

"If you'd like, we can do it without the cameras on first," Alice suggested. "And then do a second test with you being filmed."

"No," Prince Arthur said after a moment. "I want to be authentic."

The director stepped in and manoeuvred the two of them until they were in optimal lighting, and then he retreated behind the camera and gestured for them to start.

"So," Alice said cheerfully, "what we're going to do is an rapid HIV test. It only takes about a minute to do, and it's one of the best and easiest ways to get an indication of whether one might have HIV or not."

"Right. I'm weirdly nervous," the prince said again, his eyes still on the medical supplies.

"That's normal," Alice reassured him. "You're about to get a medical test done. You're about to find out something about yourself that could really matter."

Prince Arthur nodded. "Shall we do it, then?"

"Yes. So, it's a finger-prick test. Hold out your hand, please."

Prince Arthur did so, and Alice grabbed his fingertips, glancing between them before deciding on his middle finger. "Is it all right if we use this one?" she asked, giving it a bit of a squeeze.

"Yeah."

Alice reached for the lancet, told the prince to relax his hand, and then pressed it to his fingertip. It made a clicking noise, indicating the prick, but Prince Arthur didn't flinch.

[ ](https://imgur.com/iWCVHxo)

"Weirdly, that didn't even hurt," Prince Arthur said to the camera, smiling.

"There you go. It's very, very simple," Alice said. "We don't need much blood at all. And now we just wait a minute."

"Cut," the director called.

Merlin watched Prince Arthur drop his shoulders and wondered just how nervous he was. Maybe he was worried about the results—but surely if that were the case, he wouldn't be getting his test filmed.

"I hate needles," Prince Arthur said to the room at large, and everyone chuckled. Everyone except the princess, who just rolled her eyes.

Then, in a move Merlin recognised from his own bouts of nervous tension, Prince Arthur spread out his wings for a moment. They looked like they were possibly slightly smaller than Merlin's—Merlin's reached past his fingertips, but the prince's looked like they would maybe stop at his wrists if he had his arms held out. They were beautiful, though. And Prince Arthur clearly had no qualms about showing them off to everyone.

"Ready?" Alice asked.

Prince Arthur folded his wings back up and nodded.

"Action," the director said, waving his hand at them.

"So, you'll be able to see for yourself what the result is, and we can respond to that straight away."

"And it would just be the two of us in the room," Prince Arthur supplied.

"Correct, there would be no cameras," Alice said, grinning. She shook something up and moved around some of the supplies on the tray. "Now, the result on this test is given as a dot. So, if it's okay, it's a control dot—it just comes up as one blue dot. If there was a problem, if the test is reactive, there would be two dots."

The prince nodded, and Alice took her time completing the test, pressing something to the test strip and eying it carefully before moving the tray over to show the prince. "Straight away, I can tell you that you have an HIV non-reactive result here. So, everything is fine."

"Right," Prince Arthur said, giving a bit of a smile. "Great." He looked up at the camera. "Very simple, very easy, very reassuring to know my status now." He cleared his throat. "If you'd like to get tested, you can go to any of Avalon Trust's centres, no appointment necessary."

He flashed a wider smile, the director called, "Cut!", and everyone in the room applauded.

"Well done," Alice said, patting the prince's hand.

"Thanks. Do we need to do any more takes?" Prince Arthur asked, looking between Freya and the director.

Freya shook her head. "I don't think so. That was so wonderful, thank you."

"Of course," the prince said easily. "Thank you for allowing me to do this, I'm really excited to see what comes of it."

Alice started setting up another kit for the princess, and Merlin wracked his brain, trying to figure out a way to get Prince Arthur alone, or at least out of earshot. Gaius was chatting with Alice, Leon was saying something to Freya, Princess Morgana was speaking with the director—now was as good an opportunity as he was likely to get.

He stepped forward and poked at the cotton ball Alice had used to wipe Prince Arthur's finger.

"Not a fan of needles, huh?"

It was probably too casual of a remark, but the prince just smiled, his eyes crinkling.

"Best excuse I could come up with. Don't know why I was nervous. I knew what the results would be, it just…"

"It feels heavy," Merlin supplied.

The prince nodded. "That's a good way of putting it."

Merlin glanced behind him to make sure everyone else was still occupied. "I was wondering if I might ask you a question. If that's all right."

Prince Arthur's smile faded a bit, mostly around the eyes, but he nodded politely. "Sure."

"It's not to do with any of this."

"All right."

"I was wondering about…" Merlin took care to lower his voice, just in case, "Your wings. Wings in general, rather."

Prince Arthur stretched his out again, perhaps assuming Merlin simply wanted to see them. Merlin's own wings twitched under his shirt, and he stood up straighter, trying to control himself.

"They're a bit of a hassle," the prince said as if he'd said it a thousand times before.

"Yes. I mean, I can imagine. I was wondering if… if you've ever heard of anyone outside of your family having them."

"Having wings?" Prince Arthur clarified.

Merlin nodded.

The prince chuckled. "No," he said simply. "That's just in fairytales."

Merlin flushed at the implication that he believed in children's stories and tried to come up with something, anything to say in response to that, but then Prince Arthur tucked his wings back in, stood, and excused himself. He went over to Leon, speaking in a quiet voice that Merlin couldn't hear.

Merlin was angry with himself. Angry with Prince Arthur. He'd waited so long—his entire life, really—for that opportunity, and the prince had just laughed at him, dismissing his question and treating him like a common fool. Perhaps if he had asked the question in a different way, prefaced it more, practiced it a few dozen times instead of forcing himself to do it on a whim…

No, there really wasn't any other way he could have phrased it. He'd done everything he could, and all he'd got in response was a laugh. It was humiliating. The prince should have known better to react like that. Then again, Merlin supposed he was used to getting to act however he liked. He probably rarely faced any consequences for his actions.

Fuck, he really did have it so easy. It was infuriating.

"Excuse me," the director said, and Merlin realised he was standing where the princess needed to be seated for her test.

"Sorry," he muttered, stepping out of the way.

Princess Morgana's test went smoothly—and quickly, as she opted not to provide any commentary. She simply let Alice prick her finger and then smiled calmly when the results came back negative. Merlin imagined they would have to edit the footage to cut back and forth between the sibling's tests, splicing the princess's silent test in with the prince's more engaging one.

It was odd, seeing her so subdued. Everything Merlin had seen of the princess in the news, in the tabloids, on TV, online, was about how much of a wild child she was. She'd been rebelling against the crown almost as soon as she'd become part of the royal family, and her exploits were legend. She was always showing her wings off at the wrong places, partying with the wrong people, saying the wrong things at the wrong times. Here, though, at the Trust, she was being nothing but quiet and polite and supportive of her brother.

As soon as the director called "Cut!" for the last time, the crew began disassembling their equipment.

"Is there anything else we can be of assistance with today?" Prince Arthur asked, his question directed at Gaius but loud enough for everyone to hear.

"No, Your Royal Highness," Gaius said. "Thank you very, very much."

"Of course. And you'll be back in touch?"

Gaius nodded, and Prince Arthur shook his hand before following Leon and his security guards out.

The princess followed, brushing past Merlin on her way out the door, and his knees nearly buckled at the close contact. She hadn't body-checked him or anything—she'd barely touched him at all. But she had such a strong aura around her, such a shocking sense of _magic_ that Merlin had been caught completely off guard.

He stared after her, dumbstruck at the idea of anyone in the royal family having wings _and_ magic—like him. He wondered if Prince Arthur knew. He wondered if King Uther knew. He couldn't imagine what that would be like for the princess, having her father hate magic so fiercely. Merlin had only ever been encouraged by his mother, supported and nurtured. Surely the king who had rid their country of magic wouldn't be any of those things.

He wondered if the princess had been able to feel _his_ magic when she'd walked by.

Gaius watched the royals leave and then slumped against the wall, looking relieved. "That went well," he said, sounding surprised.

"They're very professional," Freya said.

"They're brilliant," Merlin muttered. Then, louder, "Anyone for lunch?"

  
~~~~  


Merlin did his best to put the incident with Prince Arthur behind him. He did his best to accept the fact that he would never get any answers as to why he had wings when he wasn't a royal.

It wasn't an easy feat. He had fantasised about that moment for so long, had played through so many versions of how it could turn out, had hung so many hopes on finally being able to ask someone who might be able to answer him.

It was hard to believe the question had come and gone with nothing but a laugh.

It was harder to believe that the princess had magic. He wondered how she managed to hide something so integral from the world. He wondered what kind of pressure she was under from her family to keep it under wraps, if they even knew. He wondered what would happen if her secret ever spilled out.

He felt so much for her, having to hide like that. He understood so deeply what that was like. It was amazing to think that someone in the royal family, the family that Merlin had reviled for so long, might actually have known what it was like to have to hide who they were.

Every time he managed to stop thinking about the prince, Merlin would think about the princess, and then he'd go round and round, completely caught up in the royal siblings and their mysteries.

The worst part, if there really was a worst part, was that it wasn't even going to be the end of the story. Gaius had been keeping in touch with the prince and his staff, and there were more meetings scheduled, more public information films to be made, more chances for Merlin to be laughed at by the prince.

He had a few weeks reprieve, a few glorious weeks where he could pretend nothing had happened, and then the Trust started ramping up for National HIV Testing Week, and Prince Arthur was everywhere. He was at events, in filming, making himself at home in Gaius's office. He was in the conference rooms and the kitchen and the hallways. He was here, he was there, he was inescapable.

At first, Merlin found it awkward. Whenever they passed in the hallway, there were just simple nods of greeting. No small talk, no smiles, nothing more than basic acknowledgement. He was so friendly to the other staff, but to Merlin he was simply the bare minimum of polite. He must have thought Merlin a complete and utter fool to treat him so coolly after such an innocent interaction.

It just made Merlin dislike him more. He clearly saw Merlin as disposable, just another face in the crowd instead of an important member of the Trust's staff. Merlin found himself daydreaming about how he could prove himself to the prince, how he could get one up on him, how he could show that he was just fine, thank you very much, and not jealous at all.

Then, to his horror, Merlin found Prince Arthur sitting in on one of his meetings. He came in just after Merlin had got everyone's attention, settled in a chair at the very back of the room, and gestured for Merlin to continue on as if his presence wasn't an enormous distraction for everyone there.

Merlin did his best to lead the meeting as usual, going through all the agenda points, listening to what his team had to say about their campaigns, keeping one eye on the clock. The other eye he kept on Prince Arthur. He looked like a walking fashion spread, his suit impeccable and his hair styled and his skin clear and smooth. His wings weren't out, but he wasn't exactly hiding them, either. Every time he shifted, Merlin could hear his feathers ruffling around his clothes. He didn't have to hide them the way Merlin did, so he wasn't bothering.

Merlin was fuming. He wanted to be able to live in his body the way Prince Arthur lived in his—without hiding it, without fear, without question. He knew that day would never come, though.

And he hated that the prince could just waltz into his meeting like it was nothing. Who did he think he was?

Merlin got through the meeting well enough with his staff at least pretending to pay attention to him. Deciding to cut his losses, he dismissed them all ten minutes early. As expected, everyone lingered for a bit too long, but Prince Arthur seemed unconcerned. He simply waited for the room to clear out, busying himself on his mobile and ignoring all the looks coming his way.

Finally, Merlin was the only one left, and the prince looked up from his mobile with a smile.

"Your work is fascinating," he said. It was the first time he'd spoken to Merlin since their disastrous wing conversation.

"I—thank you. I hope that meeting wasn't too boring for you."

"Not at all. Thank you for carrying on as if I wasn't here. Some of the other meetings I've been in have got a bit sidetracked."

"To be fair, we don't usually have random people just crash our meetings."

Prince Arthur laughed. "I don't think anyone's ever called me a 'random person' before, thank you." Before Merlin could come up with a response to that, he asked, "Do you know of anywhere good for lunch around here?"

"I usually bring my lunch," Merlin admitted. "Or go to the food truck on the corner, if I feel like a risk."

Prince Arthur raised an eyebrow. "How risky could it be?"

"You don't want to know."

The prince laughed. "Fair enough. Is there anywhere safe? I saw there's a pub across the street…"

"Yeah, they have really good sandwiches and burgers. I think they do takeaway."

"I don't mind going out." Prince Arthur stood, and, not quite meeting Merlin's eye, asked, "Would you come along? Show me around the menu?"

Merlin paused for an ineloquent amount of time. The prince was asking him to lunch. The prince who he'd embarrassed himself in front of, the prince who had been all but ignoring him, the prince with his proud wings, the prince who was openly gay, the prince who was definitely not a random person, no matter what Merlin had said.

"Or if you're busy…" Arthur looked a little uncertain, and Merlin felt a pang of guilt for being awkward. He tried to come up with an excuse, but his mind was drawing a blank. Maybe lunch with the prince could be a good thing. Maybe Merlin could try again, try to get some answers about his wings. Maybe Prince Arthur would be receptive to the question in a more private setting.

"No," he finally said, getting to his feet. "No, I'm not busy. I'd love to come. Thank you."

Prince Arthur grinned and let Merlin lead the way out of the office. They were followed by Prince Arthur's two protection officers, which Merlin didn't really know what to think of. The prince didn't seem to think anything of it at all, so Merlin tried not to dwell.

It was so odd being alone—or at least somewhat alone—with the prince. As far as Merlin knew, only Gaius had been treated to private audiences so far. Merlin wondered what exactly had happened to make the prince decide to go to lunch with him. Maybe he was trying to make up for his dismissive response to Merlin's wings question. Merlin didn't know the prince well enough to guess either way.

They crossed the street and entered the pub, where the staff immediately whipped into a frenzy to get them a clean table and drinks. Merlin had planned on sticking to water—it was the middle of a work day, after all—but then Prince Arthur ordered two ales, one for him and one for Merlin.

"What's good?" Prince Arthur asked once they were left to their menus.

"I like their toasties," Merlin said. "How do you manage to go out like this?" he asked. The entire pub was staring at them.

"I don't usually go out like this," the prince said simply as he picked up his menu. "Ooh, jacket potato."

Merlin bit down a smile and glanced down at his own menu, trying to decide what would be the best thing to order that wouldn't be too messy to eat or leave him with questionable breath.

"So," Prince Arthur said, setting down his menu. "I've heard rumours of a fundraising event."

"The ball?" Merlin guessed.

"Ah, yes. People keep mentioning it but refusing to tell me the details. I think they're worried I'll feel obligated."

Merlin could hardly fathom having the prince at their premiere fundraising ball. They'd been upping the ante every year, securing more and more high-profile guests, but having Prince Arthur would surely top everything and everyone else.

"It would be an honour to have you," Merlin admitted, squashing his usual feelings about the prince for the Trust's sake. "Not that I want you to feel obligated."

Prince Arthur laughed. "I don't feel obligated. I'd be happy to join. I keep hearing the name Elton John thrown around."

"We're in talks."

Prince Arthur nodded, looking impressed. "Well, I'll have to tell Gaius I'm interested. Do you do much to organise the ball?"

"Luckily no, I just get to attend and enjoy. It's Freya's team that gets bogged down with most of the details."

The waiter came before Prince Arthur could ask any more questions, bringing their ales and distracting them enough that Merlin could change the subject.

"I wanted to apologise," he said, still not entirely decided on the merits of what he was doing, "for asking that question at the HIV test. It was silly of me."

Prince Arthur shrugged as if he'd forgotten all about it. "It's no problem. I've heard weirder questions."

"Like what?"

"Like if I _glue_ mine on in the mornings."

Merlin had to laugh at the absurd image. "Can you imagine? How would you even manage that by yourself?"

"Exactly!" The prince shook his head. "Mental."

They fell into a silence, and Merlin found that he didn't mind it. He didn't feel pressure to keep the conversation going or make a good impression or do anything in particular. The prince was much more easy-going than he had any right to be.

It should have been just another annoying quality, but Merlin found himself relaxed rather than agitated.

Their meals came, and Prince Arthur plied Merlin for information about how he'd come to work at the Trust, his master's degree, what kinds of initiatives he'd spearheaded, and where he'd grown up. In turn, the prince shared stories about his time in the army, his other philanthropic adventures, and the time he and Morgana nearly burned down Buckingham Palace as teenagers.

"The draperies were gone," he said, laughing. "There were scorch marks all over the walls. I've never seen my father so angry."

Merlin chuckled, charmed by the notion of the prince and princess running amok together. He had never imagined them as particularly close, since Princess Morgana had been adopted and then spent more of her adolescence publicly defying her new royal parentage at every turn.

He wondered how much of her rebellion was because she had magic that she had to hide from the world. He wondered how much of it she had hidden from her adopted family. He wondered how angry the king had been when he found out, or how angry he would be if he ever found out in the future.

"Was he angry when you wanted to come out?" Merlin asked, and Prince Arthur looked surprised by the question. Merlin hurried to take it back. "I mean—sorry, that's very personal. I only meant, um…"

"It's all right," the prince said with a smile that didn't meet his eyes. "I can't talk about it here. What about you?"

Merlin wondered when and how the prince had clocked him as gay. Then he wondered why the prince couldn't talk about the king's reaction. Maybe it hadn't been a positive one. Come to think of it, there hadn't been any news on the monarch's reaction to the prince's coming out in the news. Maybe it was a point of contention.

"My mum wasn't surprised when I came out to her," Merlin said.

"And your dad?"

"Ah, he was never, um, around," Merlin explained. "It was just me and my mum."

"I'm the opposite," Prince Arthur said as if the entire world didn't know about how his mother had died within hours of his birth. "I could never imagine being a single parent. Doesn't seem like it was easy on my dad."

"Nor my mum. She never complained though."

The prince smiled. "She sounds lovely."

"She's always there for me," Merlin said. "Even when I'm being a bit of a shit to her."

Prince Arthur laughed, and they sat in the light mood for a moment until he checked his mobile.

"I'm afraid I must be going." He glanced around, and the waiter appeared immediately, trying to tell the prince that their meals were on the house. "Nonsense," Prince Arthur said, pulling out his wallet and handing over his credit card. "I insist."

The waiter, bright red, retreated again, and Merlin pulled out his own wallet.

"What are you doing?" Prince Arthur asked when Merlin held out several bills.

"Paying you back for my half."

The prince just raised an eyebrow. "No."

"But…"

"Merlin, I'm the one who dragged you out here. Trust me, it's no trouble."

Merlin put his money away, feeling self-conscious. No one ever paid for his food unless they were on a date. This certainly hadn't been a date. Merlin was used to paying his own way, and it was strange to let the prince cover his part of the bill.

The waiter returned with the prince's card, and he signed the receipt before putting his wallet away and glancing around the pub.

"This place is excellent," he said. "Thank you for joining me."

"Of course. Thank you for treating."

Prince Arthur waved off his thanks and got to his feet. "I'll see you around?" he asked, holding out his hand.

Merlin shook it. "Yeah. See you around."

Prince Arthur nodded and then, collecting his security detail, left the pub. Merlin stayed in the booth for a few more minutes, finishing off his ale and trying to register the fact that he'd just had a very friendly lunch with the prince.

The prince was, dare Merlin say it, surprisingly normal. He was a good conversationalist, and he had shown a real interest in Merlin. He'd made Merlin feel special, worthy of being spent time with. Merlin imagined he was well practiced in that, that he probably made everyone feel that way, but still. He had taken time out of his day to spend time with Merlin, and he certainly hadn't needed to.

Merlin had actually enjoyed himself, despite it all. He still didn't like Prince Arthur's life. He was still jealous and resentful and generally unhappy with the prince being out there, doing everything Merlin could never do. But, somehow, the prince as a person—a real person, who paid for his own lunches and ordered ales and had burnt the palace draperies—made it a little easier to accept.

Shaking himself out of it, Merlin slid out of the booth and walked back to the Trust to get back to work for the afternoon.

  
~~~~  


Arthur went straight from the pub to Windsor Castle to see the Archives. The staff there wasn't surprised in the least to see him stroll in and head for the crown's private papers. He had spent so many hours there as a child, and he still paid regular visits when he was stressed or needed a break from his family. He loved sitting on the floor and pouring over old letters, old texts, old histories. He had learned so much about the past of the royal family over the years, had gained an understanding of the importance of his place in the world, had discovered so many ancient secrets.

Like the Dragonlords. He had come across the term as a boy. There had been almost no context, just the line, 'the king, with his trusted Dragonlord'. He had spent hours combing through books and papers and letters, trying to find out more, but there had been nothing. Not until he had solicited the help of the Keeper, who, unable to turn away the heir to the throne, had pointed him to a small collection of private histories. Histories of magic.

Arthur had been obsessed from the first lines of the first book. Magic had been such a big part of the kingdom for so long—until his father had banned it to save the royal family and its future generations—and an even bigger part of the lives of royals. The Dragonlords, with their strong magic and ability to communicate with dragons, had been partners of the crown, companions to generations of kings and queens, trusted allies and friends and protectors.

There was very little to be found of Dragonlords outside of the private texts. They had always been a closely guarded secret of the royal family, often passed off as distant relations, noblemen, security, secretaries, even lovers. Their abilities had been kept under wraps outside of battles, where they led dragon armies at the side of their kings.

The secrecy was partially to protect the Dragonlords. They were a rare breed, and their abilities were passed down from parent to child, so their lines had to be protected.

It was also partially because they had wings of their own. Outside of the royal family, they were the only people to have wings, and that had been deemed dangerous centuries ago. Magic users with the ability to command dragons and having wings of their own had always been seen as a threat to the power held by the royal family. Part of the reason kings and the Dragonlords were so close was so that the kings could keep an eye on them, keep them in line, keep them loyal.

Their wings were kept a secret to bolster the myth that the royal family was special. Their wings were kept a secret to keep them in their place, subservient and devoted. Their wings were kept a secret to protect them and their children from those that would see harm to the crown and its allies.

Arthur loved the stories about Dragonlords, their victories on the battlefield, their counsel, their gifts, their wings that were supposedly bigger and more lustrous than any in the royal family.

There was no mention in the Archives about what had become of the Dragonlords. Arthur imagined it was the same as all the other magic users during his father's purge of magic from the kingdom—that they had all fled, escaping to the European continent or going into hiding somewhere on the outskirts of the United Kingdom.

Arthur knew it was for the best. His father had deemed the throne to be at risk, and he had done what he had to do to ensure the safety of himself, his family, his historical position.

Still, Arthur often wondered what it would be like if magic were still allowed, if Dragonlords were still around to advise their kings, if the purge had never happened.

[ ](https://imgur.com/LWLsSr1)

"Your Royal Highness."

Arthur looked up from the book he was reading to see the Keeper approaching. Geoffrey Monmouth was an ancient man, had been ancient when Arthur was a child and was ancient still, growing impossibly older every year without losing any of his sharp mind or his ability to intimidate Arthur. He was always so imposing, so strict about the archives under his care, so wary of letting Arthur learn more than what he deemed necessary.

"Mr Monmouth," Arthur said, standing to shake his hand.

"To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Arthur shelved the book and put on his best, most charming smile. "I was hoping to see you, actually. I wanted to find a Dragonlord."

"Again?" Geoffrey asked. He probably meant to tease, but his tone was more admonishing.

"A specific one," Arthur said. "The one my father had."

Geoffrey's expression hardened. "I'm afraid you'll have to ask your father—"

"You know he won't answer my questions. Please. It's important."

"What is this for?" Geoffrey asked, clearly wary.

"For myself," Arthur said, pulling authority into his voice. They both knew Geoffrey couldn't refuse him, no matter what Geoffrey liked to pretend.

"Very well," he said after a moment. "I didn't know him except in passing."

"Did you know his name?"

Geoffrey nodded, closing his eyes as if he hated giving away the answer. "Balinor."

Arthur committed the name to memory. "Thank you."

"You won't find any information about him here," Geoffrey said. "The king had his personal histories destroyed during the purge." He said it with great distaste, and Arthur had to agree with the sentiment.

"Thank you," he said again, and saw himself out of the Archives.

He had his cars take him back to the Trust, and he caught Merlin in his office, looking like he was packing up for the day. He paused in the doorway, taking in Merlin in his natural habitat. The office was small, with not much space leftover after the desk and the chairs. There were shelves mounted to the walls, though, and Merlin had them packed with books. Arthur squinted, but he couldn't make out any titles from where he stood.

"Knock knock," he said, rapping his knuckles on the doorframe.

Merlin looked up and blinked, looking a little confused. "Your Royal Highness," he said, and the words sounded awkward on his lips. "I thought you left."

"I did." Arthur realised he didn't have an excuse planned for as to why he had come back, but he decided to just plow on, knowing no one would question him. "I just had a quick question for you."

"All right."

"I was curious if you knew anything about the Dragonlords."

Arthur waited for any flicker of recognition on Merlin's face, but it remained blank. He didn't know anything about the Dragonlords. His question about wings outside of the royal family hadn't been based in reality, after all. He had asked it so earnestly, so eagerly, Arthur had been _sure_ he knew something real.

"Is that a band?" Merlin asked, proving that he really had no idea what Arthur was talking about.

Arthur had to laugh. "Probably. Are you leaving?"

Merlin glanced down at the satchel in his hands. "Yeah. It's early, but it's Friday, so…"

"So it's quitting time," Arthur said with a smile. "I hope you have a good weekend, Merlin."

"Yes," Merlin said quickly. "You, too."

Arthur smiled his thanks and then left again, not entirely sure how to feel. He slumped in the back seat of his car and pulled out his mobile as it drove him home, opening up the Trust's website and going, as he had so many times, to the staff page. Merlin's photo stared back at him, and he thought back to their lunch and how easy it had been.

He enjoyed Merlin's company. He enjoyed his clear enthusiasm for the Trust's work, his intelligence, his ability to relax and treat Arthur as just another coworker. That was all that Arthur wanted, really. He wanted to be useful, he wanted to blend in, and he wanted to make the Trust a sort of second home. He believed in the mission so strongly, believed that he could be of help, believed that he could make himself belong and become someone the staff could get used to.

Merlin made him think all that was possible. He had been so calm in the meeting Arthur had crashed, so natural at lunch, so composed when Arthur had bombarded him in his office just then. If Arthur could get everyone to act like Merlin, then he would be golden.

Not that an army of Merlins would be conducive to a productive work environment, at least not for Arthur. He kept getting distracted by Merlin's blue eyes, his soft-looking lips, the way his hair curled at the back of his neck, the subtle pecs visible beneath his button-up shirts. Merlin had been gorgeous on their first meeting, and his looks had only grown on Arthur since.

Not that Arthur was going to act on anything. He wasn't stupid enough to think that he was going to find love at the Trust. That wasn't his goal, anyway. He was there to work, to contribute, to make a difference. He imagined he would end up making friends—Merlin might become a friend, especially after their lunch—but that was it. And maybe Arthur had mostly asked Merlin to lunch so he'd have an excuse to keep looking at him and examining his interesting features, but that didn't mean anything was going to come of it.

  
~~~~  


Merlin looked up the term 'Dragonlord' before he drove out to Ealdor the next morning. He found nothing except a bunch of _A Song of Ice and Fire_ websites. Maybe Prince Arthur was a fan of _Game of Thrones_ and had wanted to discuss the series with Merlin. But, if that were the case, he surely could have come up with a better opening line.

He thought over it during the whole drive, but he came up with no answers, and once he arrived, he parked at the train station and walked the short distance to friend Will's block of flats. He went up to the first floor and knocked on the door, making an obnoxious racket of something close to a melody, and Will opened the door with a glare.

He looked pale, almost sickly.

"What's up with you?" Merlin asked as he stepped inside Will's flat. "Hangover?"

"I've just got what's going around," Will said dismissively. His voice sounded scratchy.

"What's going around?"

"Dunno. No one knows what it is."

"Maybe you should see a doctor," Merlin suggested.

Will sat down on the sofa, and Merlin could see in his posture that he was more exhausted and weak than he was letting on. "I've seen three," he said.

"Three doctors," Merlin said, alarmed. "And none of them know what's wrong with you?"

Will shrugged as if that weren't bad news. "Everyone's got it. It's probably just some kind of horrible new flu."

Merlin took one of Will's armchairs. "What do you mean everyone's got it?"

"Literally everyone in town has come down with this," Will said, again speaking as if that were normal. "Must be airborne or something."

"Well thanks for inviting me over," Merlin deadpanned.

"You're welcome," Will said with a grin.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "How many people are ill?"

"I already said—literally everyone."

"It can't be _everyone_ ," Merlin protested. "That'd be like… the plague or something."

"Maybe it's the plague then," Will said, still sounding unbothered. "'Cause literally everyone has it."

"And no one knows what it is?"

"None of the doctors I've seen," Will said with a shrug. "I've another appointment next week."

Merlin sighed and stood, going over to the sofa and putting his hand to Will's forehead.

"What are you doing?" Will asked, leaning away. "Weirdo."

"You're burning up," Merlin said, replacing his hand. Will was hot. Merlin's hand felt hot, too. Something in the simple touch felt wrong, like there was too much heat, too little air between their skins.

"I'm freezing," Will muttered, and Merlin dropped his hand.

"I think it's magic," Merlin said.

Will snorted. "Sure. There's a magical illness afflicting the townsfolk."

"How is that a less absurd explanation than an entire town just randomly falling ill with someone no one can identify?"

Will shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it is magic. Can you cure me?"

Merlin doubted it, but he figured it was at least worth a try. He put his hand back on Will's forehead and summoned his magic. He focused on healing, on making Will well again, on reducing a fever and making Will more comfortable.

"Wow," Will said, and his voice sounded stronger. "That's working."

Merlin pulled his hand away in surprise. "Really?"

Will paused, frowning. "Well, it was. When you were touching me. Now I just feel worse."

Merlin sighed and dropped back into the armchair. "All right. So… magical illness afflicting the townsfolk. Any idea how to fix this?"

"You're the one with magic."

"I have no idea how to use my magic for this."

"Then get out," Will said flatly.

Merlin chuckled and they lapsed into silence.

"Well," Will finally said, "are you going to entertain my poorly arse with tales of the prince, or what?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Is he as much a dick in person as he seems on telly?"

"Nearly. He did take me out to lunch yesterday, though."

Will raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Merlin paused. "I have no idea," he admitted.

"Hmph."

"He asked if I knew anything about the Dragonlords. Does that mean anything to you?"

"Is that a band or something?"

Merlin smirked. "That's what I asked. He didn't really give a response."

"Sounds like a right weirdo."

"Maybe," Merlin said.

"Have you seen his wings?" Will asked. He was feigning disinterest, but Merlin could tell from his tone that he was genuinely curious.

"Yeah. I, um… I asked him if he knew of anyone outside of the royal family who had wings."

Will's eyes widened. "You didn't. Did you tell him?"

"No, of course not. I just asked."

"What did he say?"

"He sort of laughed at me."

"Told you he was a dick."

"Yeah," Merlin sighed. "It wasn't the best moment."

"Maybe the Dragonlord stuff is something to do with your wings," Will said.

Merlin frowned. "How so?"

"Dunno. But if you asked about wings, and he came back with some weird Dragonlord thing—"

"We had conversations in between," Merlin said.

Will shrugged. "Just saying."

Merlin sighed and tried to imagine the prince being cryptic enough to give Merlin a clue like that. It seemed out of character, but he supposed anything was possible.

"Merlin?" Will said, his voice scratchy again.

"Yeah."

"I know we were going to go to lunch…"

Merlin glanced over to see Will slumped back against the cushions, his eyes sunken, his lips dry, his skin a strange sort of grey colour. He looked miserable.

"Yeah," Merlin said, standing up. "I'll let you rest."

"Sorry, mate," Will said, pushing himself up off the sofa. "I thought I'd feel better today."

"No worries. I'll, um… I'll see if I can figure something out, yeah?"

"You really think it's magic?" Will asked, looking sceptical.

Merlin shrugged. "Feels like it."

"In that case—help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi," Will said. "You're my only hope."

Merlin laughed and punched Will on the arm. "Nerd."

He left after that and walked over to his mum's house, thinking back to what Will had said about the Dragonlords having something to do with his wings. Maybe he was right. Maybe the prince really was being cryptic. Maybe he had answers but couldn't share them, so he'd dropped a hint to send Merlin on the right path.

By the time he reached his mum's, Merlin was determined to get answers.

"Merlin," Hunith said when she opened the door. "You're early."

She looked just as bad as Will. She was in her pyjamas and wrapped in a blanket, and she looked wan and sweaty and puffy.

"Will wasn't feeling well," Merlin explained, stepping in. "Looks like you aren't, either."

"It's going around," Hunith said with a sigh.

"Do you have a fever?" Merlin asked.

"Don't know how I could," she said, wrapping the blanket tighter around herself as she settled on the sofa. "I feel as cold as ice."

Merlin put his hand on her forehead, and it felt the same as Will's had. There was something too strong about the heat emanating from her. It felt unnatural.

"You've definitely got a fever. Have you been to a doctor?"

"Yes." Hunith sighed. "No one's sure what's wrong. Let's not talk about me, though, I'm fine. Tell me everything about the prince."

Merlin frowned, wanting to press the point but knowing she didn't have any more answers than Will. He sat down on the opposite end of the sofa.

"He's very nice," Merlin said, knowing that was what she wanted to hear, and Hunith grinned. "He's genuinely interested in the Trust, and I think we're going to get a lot of use out of him."

"What's he _like_?" Hunith pressed. "He's always seemed so stoic."

Merlin thought back to his impressions of the prince before they'd met. He supposed 'stoic' would have been amongst the descriptors he would have used, but the prince hadn't been stoic at all during his visits to the Trust. He'd been personable, open, eager, generous.

"He's very nice," Merlin said again. "He took me out to lunch yesterday."

"Oh!" Hunith looked delighted at that. "What did you talk about?"

Merlin paused. Hunith had always been so shy and evasive whenever he'd asked about his father, his wings, his magic—but maybe now, potentially armed with new information, maybe now was the time Merlin would finally get answers.

"Do you know anything about Dragonlords?" he asked.

A surprisingly long silence passed between them.

"The prince talked to you about Dragonlords?" Merlin nodded, and Hunith heaved a great breath. "Your father…"

"Yes?" Merlin asked, his heart thrumming.

"He had been a Dragonlord."

"Had been?"

Hunith frowned. "I was never clear on the details," she said apologetically. "He… he had magic, and he had been a Dragonlord. It wasn't safe for him to share more."

"He had magic?" Merlin asked, his mind whirring. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"I've never had the answers you're looking for," she said sadly. "I wish I did."

Merlin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and staring down at his hands. His father had had magic. His father had been a Dragonlord. And, for whatever reason, Prince Arthur knew about Dragonlords and had assumed Merlin had known the same.

Maybe it had something to do with Princess Morgana and her magic. Maybe she was also a Dragonlord, whatever they were. Maybe that was a type of magic user.

"You know I love you, right?" Hunith asked, her voice barely strong enough to be heard.

"You really sound terrible," Merlin said, willing to drop the Dragonlords for now. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No one knows what it is," she said, shrugging.

"And that doesn't concern you?"

"Of course it does. Can't do much about it, though, can I?"

Merlin let them sit in silence for a bit, rolling questions through his head.

"Do you think it's magic?" he finally asked.

"Do I think what's magic?" Hunith asked warily.

"The illness. It doesn't sound like it's a regular one. It doesn't _feel_ like a regular one."

"How could it be magic, though?"

Merlin shrugged and fell silent again, thinking about Princess Morgana, about the prince, about his father.

"What was his name?" he finally asked.

"Balinor."

Merlin nodded, burning the name into his memory.

"Merlin," Hunith said weakly. "Not that I don't appreciate you visiting…"

"You need rest." Merlin stood and helped his mum to her feet. "Let's get you into bed."

His hands were warm again, and all he was doing was touching her arm and back through the blanket. It felt so wrong.

Once he had Hunith deposited in bed with a glass of water on her nightstand, Merlin let himself out and took the long route back to where he'd parked at the train station, trying to think.

His father had been a Dragonlord. Prince Arthur knew about Dragonlords. He couldn't figure out the connection. What _was_ a Dragonlord? What did it have to do with him, what did it have to do with the prince, what was the connection?

And what was going on in Ealdor? What was the strange illness Will and Hunith had contracted? Why did it feel like magic, and what was Merlin supposed to do if it really was magic? He'd never faced anything like this before, and he had no idea how to go about curing an entire town of a mysterious illness. Surely it wasn't something he could do on his own. But the only other person he'd ever met who also had magic was… Princess Morgana. And, unlike her brother, she hadn't been back to the Trust since her HIV test. How was Merlin supposed to contact her to ask for her help? He supposed he could go through Prince Arthur, but how could he possibly explain himself without outing the princess's magic? It was entirely possible the prince knew about it, but that wasn't a risk Merlin could take.

The drive back to London felt long and lonely, until Merlin found the one positive thing to think about—his dad had had magic, and he finally had a name. All he had to do was find him—find _Balinor_ , and maybe then everything would fall into place.


	2. Part 2

[ ](https://imgur.com/rv61zsp)

Merlin spent the next week researching any and every Balinor he could find on the internet, but nothing looked promising. It wasn't a very common name, and the few living people he could find were either too old or too young to be his father. Most of the Balinors he discovered were long dead.

He wondered if he should hire someone. That was what people did when they needed to track someone down, right—hire a private detective? It sounded absurd, but he thought maybe he should try it. He was running out of other ideas, and he was getting absolutely nowhere on his own.

Maybe a private detective could help him figure out Dragonlords, too. He hadn't been able to find out anything more about them, either. He was starting to wonder if maybe the prince had been taking the piss for some reason. The Dragonlords were certainly not a band, certainly not a reference to George R.R. Martin, but certainly something to do with Merlin's parentage. Did Prince Arthur know somehow? Did he know who Merlin's father was?

Merlin was clueless. And worried. He was worried about his mum and Will and the weird illness they were both battling. He was worried they would get worse unless he figured something out. He was worried no doctors were going to be able to help. He was worried it was going to spread outside of Ealdor and cause a real epidemic.

Prince Arthur kept his distance from the Trust for most of that week, leaving Merlin unable to ask any follow-up questions about the Dragonlords, unable to subtly find out if the prince knew about Princess Morgana's magic.

He finally showed up on Thursday afternoon, his sister in tow, to meet with Gaius and the trustees.

Merlin watched helplessly as they disappeared into a conference room, knowing the trustees meeting would go on for over an hour. He loitered in the kitchen for as long as he dared, hoping against hope that the princess would decide to abandon the meeting and come back out.

There was no real hope of that, though, and after a while Merlin sulked back to his office.

Half an hour later, as Merlin was sloughing through a report, there was a knock on his doorframe.

He looked up and froze. The princess was standing there, a polite smile on her face.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I've gotten lost. Could you possibly tell me where the loos are?"

Merlin blinked and forced his brain to turn back on. "Sure, of course. They're just down at the end of the hall."

"I thought I'd checked there," Princess Morgana said, frowning. "I'll check again. Thank you."

"You're… welcome," Merlin said, but she was already walking away. "Bollocks," he muttered, wondering if that was going to be his only chance at speaking to her.

She walked by his office a few minutes later, though, on her way back, and Merlin jumped up and ran into the hall to stop her.

"Excuse me," he said. "Your Royal Highness. I just—"

Princess Morgana turned around and blinked at him, nonplussed.

"I was wondering if I might speak with you a moment, in my office." She looked alarmed at his proposal, and he added gently, "Please. It won't take long. I need… I need your opinion on something."

They both knew that excuse made no sense, but she followed him back to his office anyway. He kept the door open to try to make her more comfortable.

"How can I be of assistance?" she asked, taking a seat opposite his desk.

Merlin sat down and tried to think of how to say it. In the end, he decided to just put it out there. There was no use in sugar coating it.

"There's a magical illness spreading around where I grew up. My mum's got it, and my best friend, too."

Princess Morgana looked distinctly unsurprised by Merlin's news. "How do you know it's magical?" she asked.

Merlin gave her a look, not wanting to get stuck on that part of the conversation. "It's like the plague," he pressed on. "The whole town has it, it's not natural."

"That sounds very bizarre," Princess Morgana said. "I'm not sure how I can help."

Merlin sighed and got up to close the door. The air in the room changed immediately, with both of them trapped in the same small space, their magics sparking against each other.

"How do you know it's magical?" she asked again, her voice low and urgent.

"I _felt_ it," Merlin said, unable to come up with a better explanation.

"You have magic," she said, and it wasn't a question. "I can feel it," she continued. "I assume you can feel mine."

Merlin nodded. "Yes." Then, "Does Prince Arthur know?"

"No. It's best to keep these things a secret, is it not? Leaves him less opportunity to be an arse about it."

Merlin had no idea how to respond to that.

"So," the princess said, flashing Merlin a smile. "Your hometown."

"Yes," Merlin said. "Ealdor. My mother and my best friend live there. It's—"

"It's under attack," she said like there was no question.

"Well, something's definitely going on."

"It's come under attack," she said again. "Someone's up to no good."

She sounded happy about it, excited almost.

"Any idea who?" Merlin asked.

"None at all. I'd like to make a trip out there, assuming you're asking for my help."

"I—yes—you want to go to Ealdor?"

"If you'd come with me, yes."

"Come with you," Merlin repeated.

"Yes. I want to feel the magic for myself. Maybe we can find some answers if the pair of us are looking into it."

"Aren't you afraid of getting ill?" Merlin asked, thinking he had been lucky not to contract the illness on his last visit.

The princess smiled. "There are worse things than a little illness."

Merlin registered that as an odd thing to say but couldn't come up with a response.

"I'll be in touch," Princess Morgana said, taking a business card out of her suit jacket. She took a pen off his desk and scribbled something on the back of it. "Text me your availability."

Merlin looked down at the bard with her private mobile number scrawled across it, his mouth hanging open stupidly. When he looked back up, the princess was already standing and at his door.

"We'll figure this out, Merlin," she said, smiling. "Magic's meant to be fun, not harmful."

With that, she opened the door and left.

  
~~~~  


Morgana couldn't believe her luck. Merlin's mum and best mate lived in Ealdor? What were the odds that someone she knew—barely knew, but still—would be affected by the curse she and her coven had put on the small town's water tower? They had picked Ealdor specifically because it was small, unknown, unimportant. News of the town's crisis was unlikely to spread to London until it was really dire, and then Morgana could swoop in, save the town, and prove that magic was a force for good.

That was the plan, anyway. The residents of Ealdor would fall ill, maybe even be hospitalised, and slowly, eventually, the story would get out and everyone in London, everyone in the UK, would have their eyes on Ealdor, panicked that magic had somehow wormed its way back into England. And Morgana would be the hero, the bringer of light and healing, and Uther would have to see reason.

Either that or he would banish her from his kingdom and she would live the rest of her life in shame and fear. She had to stay optimistic, though.

Those were the thoughts whirring through his mind as she and Merlin drove to Ealdor. They were in the back seat, Morgana's driver at the wheel and favourite security guard in the passenger seat.

"Does anyone know about you?" she asked when they were nearly there.

"Just my mum and best friend."

"I'd like to meet her," Morgana decided.

Merlin paused. "Who, my mum?"

"Yes. I think it would make sense to speak to someone who's sick, don't you think?"

"Sure," Merlin said slowly. "I'll have to let her know we're coming."

"Of course."

Merlin pulled out his mobile and hurried to send off a text. He typed rather frantically, and Morgana could see him going back and forth with someone for a few minutes.

"Well?" she asked when it looked like the conversation was over.

"She's never going to forgive me for bringing you to her house while she's this ill."

Morgana just smiled. "What's her name?"

"Hunith."

She asked for the address to give to her driver, and, less than five minutes later, her car was being parked a few houses down from Hunith's.

Merlin led the way, his hands shoved in his pockets and his glances at Morgana getting less and less subtle. He was nervous. It was sort of sweet.

The street was suspiciously empty. No one was outside, all of the blinds were drawn on all the houses. Everyone was stuck inside, ill. Morgana could feel the strange aura all around them.

When they reached the right house, Merlin knocked and Hunith opened the door, looking frazzled. She was dressed and had done her best to put on makeup, but she still looked sickly.

"Hey Mum," Merlin said, giving her a hug. "This is Princess Morgana."

"Just Morgana, please," Morgana said, holding out her hand.

"I'm not sure if I should, Your Royal Highness. I don't want to spread this."

"Oh, but you'll hug me?" Merlin asked indignantly.

Morgana grinned. "It's fine. May we come in?"

"Yes," Hunith said quickly. "Yes, of course, please."

She stepped aside and Merlin and Morgana entered, followed by her security detail. He stayed firmly by the door, blocking anyone from entering or exiting without getting by him.

"Would you like tea?" Hunith asked, and Morgana saw a very nice tea set sitting out on the kitchen table.

"No, thank you," Morgana said, knowing she had to avoid drinking the water at all costs. "I don't want to take up too much of your time. I just wanted to see you and ask about your illness."

Hunith smiled nervously. "All right."

"Sit, please," Morgana said, gesturing at the sofa.

Hunith waited until Morgana and Merlin were settled in armchairs before taking her spot on the sofa.

"I started feeling off a few weeks ago," she said. "I thought it was just a cold."

"It's not just a cold, though, is it?" Morgana asked.

"It doesn't appear to be," Hunith said with a sigh. "I've got a fever, but I'm cold all the time. I've got no appetite. I feel like I'm wasting away."

"Do you know anyone who hasn't contracted the illness?"

Hunith shook her head. Merlin looked upset.

"Would you mind if I got myself a glass of water?" Morgana asked.

Hunith looked alarmed, and Merlin stood and offered to do it. Morgana followed him into the kitchen and watched as he took out a glass and filled it at the sink. When he handed it over, she upturned it immediately.

"What—"

Merlin cut himself off and watched. The glass was empty, and the water was floating in mid-air, not dropping to the floor, not sloshing over their shoes.

Morgana ran her fingers through the water and frowned. It felt wrong, tampered with, dangerous. It felt _too_ dangerous. She hadn't expected it to feel so strong.

When Merlin just stared at her, she invited Merlin to touch the water as well. 

"It won't bite," she teased when he hesitated.

Merlin held out his hand slowly, poking at the mass of water hovering between them.

"Do you feel it?" she asked.

Merlin frowned and did it again. Morgana could imagine he was feeling what she had felt. There was something in the water. Something shimmering and cold and unnatural. Something dark and chilling and harsh.

"It's the water," Merlin said in a whisper.

"Seemed too obvious," Morgana said, pretending it had just been a whim, "but I figured it couldn't hurt to check.

"If they stop drinking it, will they get better?"

Morgana shrugged even though she knew the answer. "At this point, I doubt it. It's been going on for too long." She lowered the glass under the water and, at her gesture, it fell back into the glass. "I'd like to take some of this back with me. Is there a bottle or something I could borrow?"

Merlin dug around in the cupboards until he found a canteen. Morgana carefully poured the glass of water into it and then went back out to the living room, handing it off to her guard to hold.

"Don't drink that," she said with a grin at her guard before sitting back down with Hunith. "Thank you so much for your time."

"Of course," Hunith said, and Morgana could see the exhaustion on her face. "Is there anything else, anything at all…"

"No, thank you. You've been incredibly generous." She turned to Merlin. "I think we should leave your mother to get some rest."

Merlin stood and gave his mother a gentle hug. "I love you," he whispered, and Morgana turned away to pretend she couldn't hear. "Please take care of yourself."

"I'm trying."

Merlin pressed a kiss to her forehead. Morgana held out her hand and insisted on shaking Hunith's, knowing full well the illness wouldn't spread that way.

When the goodbyes and thank yous were finally done, Merlin followed Morgana and the security guard back to the car.

"This town is lovely, Merlin," Morgana said politely as they headed back to London. "It's hard to imagine why you left."

"Not too many of the gay folk in Ealdor."

Morgana burst out laughing, and Merlin flushed to his ears, looking mortified at what he'd just said.

"I suppose the dating pool would be rather small," she conceded.

They rode in silence for a while, both of them looking out the windows and watching the trees go by. She would have to practice her cure on the canteen, make sure that the curse hadn't gone wrong. The water had felt so harsh, so cruel, but Morgana had thought it was just meant to feel off. Perhaps something had gone wrong. Perhaps she wouldn't be able to fix this after all.

No, she decided, she just needed to try. She had the canteen, and if she could fix that bit of water, she would be able to fix the water supply for Ealdor.

"How long have you had magic, Merlin?" Morgana asked quietly so that the men in the front wouldn't be able to hear her.

"As far back as I can remember. You?"

Morgana nodded. "Yeah. Must be nice not to have to hide it, huh?"

"I have to hide it," Merlin said. "It's not safe."

"No," Morgana agreed. "Maybe one day it will be."

"What do you mean?"

Morgana just shrugged.

  
~~~~  


Neither Prince Arthur nor Morgana showed up at the Trust for most of the next week, leaving Merlin to wonder what the princess was getting up to with the canteen of Ealdor's water. He knew he could just text her—maybe she was even expecting him to do so—but he couldn't bring himself to do it. It was one thing to address her as just Morgana as she had asked, but it was another to casually text to her to ask what she was doing and when he'd see her again.

So he occupied himself with work, waiting and waiting and waiting until, finally, Morgana came in one day. Merlin caught just a glimpse of her heading into a conference room with Prince Arthur one morning, and he hovered in the kitchen until the meeting was over and she came back out.

"Good morning," she said, giving him a nod of greeting.

"Good morning. Are you—"

"I'm off to another meeting," she said, and then, more quietly, "I'll come by your office later, all right?"

Merlin nodded and retreated to his desk, pretending to do work until she finally knocked on his doorframe.

"Come in," he said, on edge from having had to wait all day. "How are you? Have you found anything out about the water?"

Morgana stepped in and closed the door, taking a seat and smoothing down her hair.

"No," she said after a moment.

Merlin slumped. "Nothing?"

"I'm not an expert on curses," she said defensively. Then she reached into her suit jacket pocket—Merlin hadn't noticed it bulging—and pulled out the canteen. "Maybe you can help."

Merlin took it and, opening it, set it on his desk. He dipped a fingertip in and spread the wetness across all his fingers, trying to get a read on the energy of the water.

It felt… it felt _hungry_. Like it wanted, like it needed something. Something strong, something meaningful, something significant. It felt like bloodlust.

"I think it needs a sacrifice," he said, wiping his hand off on his trousers.

"What?" Morgana asked sharply.

"You can't feel that? It's like… it's so eager. Ravenous, maybe. It's waiting for something."

Morgana frowned and poured a few drops into her palm. She pressed her hands together and closed her eyes, her frown deepening as she sat in silence.

"That can't be right," she finally said.

"What can't be right?"

"A sacrifice. I mean… that doesn't make any sense. Why a sacrifice? What _kind_ of sacrifice?"

"I have no idea," Merlin admitted. "That's just what it felt like to me. What does it feel like to you?"

"Like that," Morgana said lowly. She closed the canteen and put it back in her pocket. "I'll be back in touch," she said, standing abruptly.

"Wait, don't you think we should—"

"I have people," Morgana said. "Maybe they'll have answers."

Ignoring Merlin's protests, she let herself out of his office. Merlin sighed and leaned back in his chair, frustrated. It was his friends and family who were ill, his life that was being affected by the strange affair, but Morgana didn't seem to think he should be involved in whatever she was doing. She'd be in touch if she needed help, like she had today, but until then, Merlin knew he'd be left in the dark.

He felt unnerved by the strength of what he'd sensed in the water, though. It was strong magic, _dark_ magic, and he knew it would take something similar to get rid of it.

  
~~~~  


When Merlin didn't hear anything else from Morgana by the end of the next week, he decided he would need to take matters into his own hands. He was starting to hear about Ealdor in the news. Only the tabloids were spouting the theory that it was magic, but still. It was starting to cause unease, starting to become a crisis, and he knew something had to be done. Maybe he could find the source of the curse and try to put a stop to it, sacrifice or no.

He drove out to his mum's that weekend and found her looking awful, her spirits low.

"Matthew died on Wednesday," she said as soon as he was inside.

"Matthew from next door?" Merlin asked, alarmed.

"Yes. It took him quite quickly."

"People are dying?" Merlin asked, starting to panic.

"I suppose it could have been something else—"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to worry you."

Merlin huffed. "Listen, you have to stop drinking the water."

"What do you mean?"

"That's where the illness is coming from. There's something in the water—something… something sort of evil. Some kind of dark magic. I'm still working on figuring out what it is, but—"

"Are you certain?" Hunith glanced over at the kitchen. "The water? That's awful."

"It is," Merlin agreed. "You have to stop drinking it."

"What if I boil it?" Hunith suggested. "Like when I make tea."

Merlin shook his head. "I don't think it'll work that way. It's not a contamination, it's… well, it's _magic_. It can't be boiled away."

"What am I supposed to drink, then?"

"Can you get bottled water from the store, just for now?"

"I suppose. I guess I'd better. I'll let the neighbours know as well."

"Don't tell them it's magic," Merlin said. "I don't want to scare anyone. Just tell them not to drink the water."

"Does the princess know this is magic?" Hunith asked quietly.

"No," Merlin lied. "She's just trying to help. It's been in the news."

"It's lovely of her to take an interest."

"Yes."

"I need to go lie down," Hunith said after a few moments of silence passed.

"Of course. Please take care of yourself. Call me if you need anything. Anything, all right?"

"All right," Hunith said, her voice weak. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Mum. I need to go see Will and tell him about the water. Will you be all right?"

Hunith nodded, so he kissed her on the forehead—it was still burning strangely—and drove over to Will's block of flats by the train station.

The sky turned dark as he drove, and by the time he reached Will's flat, it was starting to rain. He hurried inside and went up to the first floor, knocking on Will's door.

When there was no response, he rang the bell, thinking Will might be asleep.

When there was still no response, he knocked and rang at the same time, trying to rouse his friend.

"Would you stop that?" Will's neighbour stuck her head out into the hall, looking annoyed. "Some of us are trying to rest."

"Sorry," Merlin said, taking in how pale and thin the woman was. She definitely had the illness. "I'm just trying to wake up my friend."

The woman stared at him, and Merlin's stomach turned slowly.

"Your friend…"

Merlin rang the doorbell again, unwilling to think, unwilling to even entertain the notion—

"I'm so sorry dear, but—"

"No," Merlin said, pounding on the door. "He's asleep."

The woman came out of her flat and placed an overheated hand on his shoulder.

"He passed yesterday, dear. The fifth one this week."

Merlin clenched his jaw, the rest of his body going limp.

"He's… asleep," he muttered even as he lowered his fist.

"He's in a better place."

Merlin took a deep breath, and then another, struggling to breathe as his heart started thudding madly in his chest. Will couldn't be dead. He couldn't be _dead_.

"Can I get you some tea, dear?" the woman offered kindly.

"No," Merlin snapped. "And stop drinking the water." He ran back out to his car—it was pouring now—and pulled out of the carpark.

The woman had to be wrong. She just had to be. She had confused Will with someone else. She was senile. She had been taken by the illness and it was affecting her brain.

Except.

Merlin hadn't heard from Will since Thursday.

At a red light, Merlin pulled out his mobile and rang Will.

It went straight to voicemail.

Merlin fought the urge to chuck his mobile out the window and into the rain.

The light turned green and he drove, disbelieving and maddened and refusing to engage with the part of himself that knew the truth.

He drove until he reached the water tower at the edge of town, and then he sat in his car and stared out at the rain, unseeing, unthinking.

Slowly, gradually, he became aware of someone under the water tower. They were standing with their arms up stretched, reaching towards the tower, spinning slowly.

They looked… odd. Out of place. Out of time, even. Something was off. Something was wrong.

Merlin got out of his car and hurried over, wiping the rain off his face as he got closer. He didn't recognise them as anyone from town. And as he approached the tower, it started to look like—

"Morgana!" Merlin called out.

Morgana dropped her arms and gave Merlin a look he didn't care for. She was bundled up for the weather, but her wings were out, looking waterlogged and sad.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Merlin echoed.

"I'm trying to fix this. You need to leave."

"Why are you here alone? Let me help."

"No."

"Let me help!" Merlin cried out, feeling desperate. "My best friend just died, and I'm… just let me help. Please."

Morgana stared at him. "Your friend died?"

"Yes."

Morgana let out a shaky breath. She reached inside her jacket and pulled out a very large knife. Merlin held up his hands and took a step back.

[ ](https://imgur.com/DEXLqWp)

"What the fuck, Morgana?"

"I need you to cut off my wings," she said.

" _What?_ " Merlin asked, sure he had misheard.

"I'm sacrificing them. This needs to stop."

"You can't cut off your wings," Merlin said, lowering his hands. "Are you mental?"

"Whose side are you on?" Morgana asked, waving the knife rather thoughtlessly. "People are dying. This needs to stop!"

"Then I'll do it," Merlin heard himself saying. "I'll be the sacrifice."

Morgana had the gall to laugh. "No, Merlin."

"Yes. You're the fucking princess—you can't mutilate yourself over this."

"Oh, but you can _die_ for it?"

"It's my town," Merlin said. "My mother's life on line. I'd gladly trade my life for hers."

"You're crazy, Merlin." Morgana turned away, and Merlin lunged and grabbed the knife out of her hand.

"This has to stop," he said firmly, holding the knife behind his back so she couldn't reach it. "You said so yourself."

"It has to stop with _me_ ," she said. "No one else."

"That's not how magic works. The water doesn't need _you_ specifically. It can have me. I'm not letting anyone else die."

"It's my fault!" Morgana cried out. She clapped a hand over her mouth, and Merlin could see tears mixing with the rain on her face.

"What?"

"It's my fault," she said, dropping her hand. "It's my fault."

"How is it your fault?" Merlin asked slowly.

"I thought if… if there was a crisis, and I was called to fix it… I thought I could show him that magic can be good and useful. That it should be allowed."

Merlin tried to put the pieces together. "You put a curse on the water tower."

Morgana shook her head. "No, it wasn't me. But I… I asked for it to happen. I wanted to show Uther that magic should be allowed, that it's not always evil—"

"You put a _curse_ on the water tower," Merlin repeated, trying not to shout. "That's fucking evil, Morgana."

"It wasn't me," she said weakly.

"Then who was it?"

"Me." Another voice rang out from behind Merlin, and before he could respond, the knife was wrenched from his hands and the tip pressed up to his back.

Merlin glanced over his shoulder to see a very large man standing behind him. There were more people coming up behind him, each of them wearing the same hungry expression.

"What is this?" he asked Morgana.

"My coven…" Morgana gave him a pleading look. "I didn't want anyone to die. I didn't realise—"

Merlin shoved his magic backwards, knocking the coven onto their backs. He turned around, counting the members of the group. There were nine of them, ten including Morgana. And he was just one man.

"Oh, what's this?" the large man asked, getting back to his feet. "He has magic, too."

"And I'm not afraid to use it," Merlin said, holding out his hands.

The man just laughed. "Neither are we." He slashed his hand through the air and Merlin felt a great push against his chest. He staggered back, into Morgana.

"Merlin, you need to get out of here," she hissed before pushing him away.

"This ends now," Merlin shouted, looking around at the group closing in on him. "I don't care which one of you is the sacrifice, but no one else from Ealdor is dying. Do you—"

He got blown off his feet, into the air and over everyone's heads. He knocked into one of the tower's pillars and slumped back down to the ground, his spine singing from the sharp contact with so much metal.

"Fuck," he moaned, trying to get back to his feet. He could barely breathe from the pain.

"Stop putting up such a fight," someone said. "You _wanted_ to be the sacrifice, remember?"

Merlin looked up just in time to see Morgana holding out her hands. She lifted him into the air, only slightly more gently than the previous man had, and then dropped him.

Merlin grunted and rolled onto his back, trying to catch his breath. His body was trembling from the cold, from the abuse, from the damp, uneven ground below him.

Slowly, he managed to stand. He closed his eyes and, concentrating on his breathing, forced everything he had into his hands. Power surged through him, out of him, and the coven was flung in every which direction. One of them slammed into another pillar and didn't rise after they crashed to the ground. One of them flew so far he landed past Merlin's car. Morgana got thrown into the side of the maintenance building, her head making a ringing noise as it collided with the tin roof.

She hung there for a moment, impossibly still, and then there was a terrible ripping noise as she fell to the ground.

One of wings stayed in place, caught on a spike sticking out of the roof, dripping horribly with blood.

Merlin watched, mortified, as the coven reassembled around Morgana's still body. She was breathing, but she wasn't moving, and they no longer seemed concerned with Merlin.

He took a few steps back, wondering if he could make a dash for the woods, and then the large man from before looked up from Morgana. He flung the knife with stunning accuracy, and Merlin only just managed to dodge it.

It landed on the ground somewhere behind him, and he summoned it quickly, holding it out in front of him in case anyone else was going to attack.

No one did, though. The coven simply picked up Morgana's body and retreated, loading her into a truck that was parked behind the maintenance building.

Merlin waited until the truck drove off, and then he dropped the knife and retched.

He sank to the damp grass, trying to get his breathing and his heart rate under control. Never in his life had he had to use his magic like that. Never in his life had he even imagined doing so. His life had never been in danger before, not like that.

He didn't know how long he sat there for, only that by the time he came to his senses, the rain had stopped. He stood slowly, his back still aching from hitting the pillar.

He made his way slowly to the car, trying to avoid looking at Morgana's wing hanging from the low roof.

Then, with his eyes closed, he reached up and freed the wing, lowering it gently to the ground. He turned and took a long look at it, thinking dully that Morgana had gotten her wish after all, and set it ablaze.

He waited until it went out, nothing but bone and ash left on the damp ground, and then he continued to his car.

There was another car next to his, one that hadn't been there before, he was sure of it. It was black, the rain on the hood glistening as the sun struggled to come back out.

Prince Arthur was behind the wheel.

Before Merlin could really register that fact, before he could decide what to do, before he could think through the implications of Prince Arthur having seen him, the prince pulled away and drove off.

Merlin slumped into his car, completely soaked, and sat in the driver's seat until the sun went down and his thoughts finally drifted back to Will instead of Morgana.

He was gone.

But Merlin had made the sacrifice, and no one else would die.

Giving the water tower one last look, Merlin turned on his car and drove back to London.

[ ](https://imgur.com/BzKkEvS)

  
~~~~  


Arthur drove, followed by his security detail, until his car started getting low on petrol. He drove until he was home, and he went straight into his office, slamming the door behind him and struggling not to fling everything off his desk.

Morgana had magic.

Merlin had magic.

They had lied to him, hidden it right under his nose, all while conspiring with each other.

Or something.

In truth, he really didn't understand what he'd just seen. He'd arrived too late. By the time he'd gotten there, all he had witnessed was Morgana magicking Merlin up into the air and Merlin retaliating by flinging everyone else around. Morgana had gotten caught on something and—

Arthur's whole body ached at the thought of losing one of his wings like that.

And then Merlin had just set it on fire, ruining any chance there might have been to reattach it.

All Arthur had wanted to do was make sure Morgana was behaving appropriately, wasn't backsliding to her old rebellious ways, was doing good with her life instead of causing more turmoil for their family. He had been prepared to confront her, prepared to discuss whatever she was up to, prepared to get his security guards involved, if necessary. He had been prepared for so much, but he hadn't been prepared to see her and Merlin have a _magic battle_.

Arthur sank into his office desk and stared up at the ceiling, wondering how this had even happened. How had he not known that Morgana had magic? How had she managed to hide such a thing for so long—for _decades_? And why?

He wasn't stupid. He knew that magic was banned and that it had been their father who had banned it, but surely Morgana should have known that Arthur could be trusted. She had known about his obsession with the history of magic. She had known that he didn't always agree with their father. She had known that he, too, occasionally rebelled against the king.

Clearly it hadn't been enough, Arthur realised. He hadn't distinguished himself from his father enough, hadn't disagreed enough, hadn't pushed back against the magic ban enough. Or at all.

In truth, Arthur had never questioned it.

Morgana must have noticed that.

The fact that Morgana simply hadn't trusted him enough made Arthur feel sick. Sicker than seeing her lose her wing, sicker than watching Merlin burn it. He had always considered himself close with Morgana. She had been the first person he'd ever come out to—they'd grown up together, for Christ's sake. They had been raised, after Morgana's parents had died, as siblings. Arthur had always trusted her implicitly.

Apparently it hadn't been mutual.

Arthur took out his mobile and stared at it for a long time before composing a text message to Morgana.

**_Please call me when you get a chance. I saw what happened_ **

Morgana didn't reply that night, though. Or any time the following day. It took nearly 48 hours before she finally responded, by which time the news of Ealdor's sudden recovery from a mysterious illness had gotten into the papers and onto the news. The tabloids were suggesting that the princess, who hadn't been seen in several days but had been spotted in Ealdor several weeks before, might have had something to do with it. Maybe she had magic or had conspired with magic users to get back at the crown for some imagined offence. It was all conjecture, all illegitimately sourced, but it still made Arthur deeply uncomfortable how close they were coming to the truth. And what Morgana finally had to say didn't make him feel any better.

**You didn't see anything**

Arthur wasn't interested in playing games with her.

**_I saw you and Merlin using magic, I saw you lose a wing. Where are you?_ **

**I'm safe, that's all you need to know**

She refused to respond to any of his texts or calls after that, and Arthur had to give up. He knew all too well how stubborn Morgana could be, and he knew he was just going to have to wait it out until she felt like talking to him again. Which, considering what had just happened, might well be never.

Arthur distracted himself, as he usually did, at the Archives. He spent most of his evenings there, occasionally even sleeping over at Windsor, reading everything he could about his extended family.

It took several days and some assistance from Geoffrey, but he finally found what he was looking for. It was in a letter, from his mother to Morgana's, and it mentioned that Vivienne, Morgana's mother, had magic. She'd had magic. Morgana had inherited the gift from her mother. And Arthur's mother had known. Which most likely meant that Arthur's father had known. Which meant that Uther might have suspected about Morgana this whole time.

Maybe that was why he had always been so harsh with her.

The more Arthur found, the more he read, the more he was desperate for answers. What exactly had happened to make Uther suspect that the throne was under threat of Dragonlords and other magic users? What had happened to all the people he had intimidated out of their public-facing lives? How had Vivienne escaped his wrath?

Or had she? Had Uther somehow gotten her killed?

Arthur had to stop his conjecture at that point, too disturbed by that thought. Surely Uther wouldn't have orchestrated a car crash to kill his cousin and his wife.

The only way he was going to get more answers, though, was to talk to someone.

He had an idea, a very stupid idea, but it was all he had.

He decided to try Morgana one last time though.

_**Your mother had magic** _

He sent it a week after the incident, hoping that was enough time for Morgana to want to talk to him again.

**Brilliant deduction. Did Uther tell you?**

**_No, but I imagine he knows. Will you please tell me what happened?_ **

There was no response for a while, and then Arthur's mobile rang. Morgana's picture popped up on the screen, and he answered quickly.

"Hello? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Arthur," Morgana said. She sounded tired.

"How are you _fine_ , you lost a _wing_."

"I'm fine," she said again.

Arthur sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Will you please tell me what happened?"

"You said you saw what happened."

"I don't know what I saw. Why were you fighting with Merlin? Why were you in Ealdor?"

"You should ask Merlin."

"Morgana—"

"Or have you already gotten him sacked?"

Arthur frowned. "Why would I have him sacked?"

"You said you saw him using magic. Isn't that against the law?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm not a monster, Morgana. I'm not going to have anyone lose their job over this." There was a long silence, and Arthur could feel the unsaid things hanging in the air. "Look, if you want support when you go to Father about this—"

"I'm not going to him about this," Morgana said. "Are you out of your mind?"

"He loves you," Arthur said imploringly. "He wouldn't hurt you."

"We both know that's not true."

"Morgana," Arthur said, pulling as much power into his voice as he could. "You're being ridiculous. He's your _father_."

"He's a monster," Morgana said simply. "And I'm not having this argument with you."

She hung up, and Arthur stared down at his mobile for a long moment. He knew his father was harsh, sometimes unnecessarily so, but he wasn't a monster. He had outlawed magic for a _reason_ , surely even Morgana could appreciate that.

Realising he wasn't any closer to having answers, Arthur went back to his first idea. He composed an email to his private secretary, requesting he look into someone who used to be close to the crown, someone who might have gone missing during the purge, someone named Balinor.

  
~~~~  


A week after the thing with Morgana, and Merlin's back was still sore. A week after losing Will, and his heart was still heavy. A week of Prince Arthur missing from the Trust, and he had no energy to spare for what that meant. Maybe he had decided he couldn't work with a magic user. Maybe he was working on a way to get Merlin sacked. Maybe he'd driven into a ditch on the way home that night. Merlin didn't care.

No one else seemed to notice the prince's absence from the Trust. All he heard being talked about, both in the news and in the gossip circles in the Trust's kitchen, was that the princess was suddenly absent from the public eye, and that she might have had something to do with some sort of magical illness in some small town somewhere outside of London.

Merlin did his best to ignore all of that.

He'd got through one week and was ready to get through another. He arrived at the Trust, and it looked like it was going to be as normal a day as any other—until he got to his office and saw Prince Arthur waiting outside of it.

"Good morning," the prince said as Merlin unlocked his door and went inside.

Merlin didn't have it in him to respond.

"I wanted to offer my condolences," Prince Arthur said, stepping inside Merlin's office without an invitation and closing the door behind him. "I heard you lost one of your friends to the illness in Ealdor."

"Did Morgana tell you that?" Merlin snapped.

"No. Gaius."

Merlin sighed and sat heavily in his chair, doing his best to avoid the prince's gaze. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Prince Arthur sat in on the chairs in front of Merlin's desk. "I was hoping you might be able to tell me what happened that night. Morgana's not really being forthcoming."

"I don't have the full story," Merlin said.

"That's all right."

Merlin sighed again and scrubbed his hands over his face. "Morgana said those people—her coven—put a curse on the water tower in Ealdor, and that it was her fault. I guess she asked them to. I don't know why."

"And… they attacked you?"

"There needed to be a sacrifice. Morgana was going to chop off her wings… I wanted to stop her. Then her coven showed up, and… and I'm not really sure. Maybe they didn't want there to be a sacrifice. Maybe they didn't want the illness to stop. So we fought. And… and when Morgana fell, I used her wing as the sacrifice. I didn't want anyone else to die."

"No," Prince Arthur agreed. "No one should have died."

Merlin set his jaw, only barely stopping himself from snapping that people had died—that Will had died.

There was a long silence, and Merlin wondered what the prince was thinking.

"I have some information you might be interested in," he said eventually.

"Oh?" Merlin asked, actually deeply uninterested.

"About Dragonlords."

Merlin pursed his lips. "What about them?"

"I know where the last one is."

"The last Dragonlord?" Merlin asked, wondering if that should mean something to him.

"You asked if anyone outside of my family has ever had wings," Prince Arthur said. "The Dragonlords did. At least, that's what I've read. I've never met one."

Merlin took a deep breath and forced himself to look up and meet Arthur's gaze. "But you know where one is."

"His name's Balinor."

Something inside Merlin broke a little bit. "Oh?" he asked, slightly hysterical.

Prince Arthur frowned. "Yes. I was thinking… this weekend—"

"I have a funeral to attend," Merlin said sharply.

"Of course. The weekend after, then."

Merlin shrugged. "Maybe."

Prince Arthur stood and laid a hand on Merlin's desk. "I am sorry about your friend." He lifted his hand, and Merlin saw that he'd left a piece of paper on the desk. "Let me know when you'd like to go find Balinor."

He turned to leave, and Merlin, before he could stop himself, called out, "Wait."

Prince Arthur looked back at him, his expression soft. "Yes?"

"Morgana's wing…"

Arthur nodded. "Yes. She's… well. I don't know where she is. But she says she's all right."

Merlin nodded and turned toward his computer, ready to be alone.

"About your magic," the prince said quietly, and Merlin looked back up at him. "I just wanted you to know that I'm not taking issue with it."

"Thanks," Merlin muttered.

"I'll leave you to it," the prince said quietly, and then excused himself from Merlin's office.

Merlin took the paper from his desk, saw that it had the prince's number on it, and added him as a contact to his mobile, wondering what the prince really thought of him and his magic, and then he tried to get back to work.

  
~~~~  


The week went by slowly, with Merlin doing his best to stay engaged with the planning for the National HIV Testing Week. He went to his meetings, he visited the ancillary centres, he worked with Freya and Gaius and his managers. He went through the motions, and finally the weekend came, and he drove back to Ealdor.

His mother was recovered. She'd never even had to buy the bottled water.

The funeral was on Saturday afternoon at the local church. Hunith was there. Will's mum was there. Will's friends from school and work were there. It was nice, seeing everyone come together to celebrate and remember Will.

Merlin felt numb. He sat through the service, went to the graveyard, came back for the reception. He couldn't stop thinking about Morgana, though. How Will had died for nothing other than a family feud between a literal princess and her father. Will had just been a pawn. He and the dozens of others who had died—they had all died for nothing.

On Sunday, Merlin woke up early and sent the prince a text.

**You wouldn't happen to be busy today, would you?**

The response came surprisingly quick.

_**I'm not, actually. Care to hunt down a Dragonlord with me?**_

**Yes please**

They made arrangements for Prince Arthur to pick Merlin up in an hour, so Merlin got up and took a shower and made himself breakfast. He spent a while trying to decide how to dress, not sure how he wanted to present himself to the prince outside of work—or to his father for the first time in his life.

He tried not to think too hard about that, though. Meeting his father felt too daunting. He was researching his family, his magic, his wings. He was meeting a Dragonlord, that was all. And if he happened to be related to the Dragonlord, then, well, that would just have to play out however it was going to.

When he was finally dressed, Merlin went to wait outside and found that the prince's cars were already there.

"We're early," Prince Arthur said as one of his security guards opened the door for Merlin.

"I'm early as well." Merlin climbed into the car and the guard shut the door. "Where are we going, exactly?"

"Not far from Ealdor, actually. It's not really a town… it's just sort of a mess of houses tucked against a hill. Seems to be a village of hermits, really."

The car jerked into motion and Merlin pulled on his belt. "How did you find out about this Dragonlord?"

Prince Arthur was quiet for a long moment.

"I had to go to the Archives Keeper," he finally said. "I didn't bother to ask my father, he wouldn't have been exactly forthcoming."

"He doesn't seem like he would be, if it has to do with magic."

"Yes," Prince Arthur said quietly. "He does have his biases."

"And you don't?" Merlin asked before he could stop himself. "Sorry," he said quickly. "Your Royal Highness. I didn't mean…"

He wasn't sure what he had or hadn't meant.

"You can call me Arthur," the prince said in the same quiet voice. "And I am trying to better myself."

"That's good," Merlin said, not sure what else to say.

Arthur murmured his agreement, and silence fell between them again.

"Where's Morgana?" Merlin asked after a bit.

"No idea." Arthur sighed. "She's started making her appearances, though. She went out to a club last night. She's just not coming home."

"Has she told you her version of what happened?"

Arthur shook his head. "She hasn't told me anything. I've put together some pieces, though. She's… she takes my father's views very hard, very personally—"

"They are personal," Merlin interjected. "He hates magic, and she has magic. How else is she supposed to take that?"

"I don't know," Arthur said, and he didn't seem to have anything else to say on the matter. Merlin looked out the window, watching as they got farther and farther away from London.

"I think we're close," Arthur said eventually. "I'm not sure exactly which house is his."

"Guess we're about to surprise a lot of hermits, then."

Arthur smirked and undid his belt as the cars all came to a stop in what looked to be an empty field. He and Merlin got out of the car and, trailed by one of Arthur's guards, made their way to the houses.

It was immediately clear which one belonged to Balinor. Merlin could feel the magic radiating off it. It was practically singing.

"This one," he said, pointing to the house in question.

"Are you sure?" Arthur asked.

Merlin nodded and knocked. There was a flurry of sound from inside, and a moment later the door opened.

Balinor was tall, like Merlin, dark-haired, like Merlin, and sad, like Merlin. He also looked ill. Merlin's first thought was that the water tower must reach even this small clump of houses, but on closer look, it didn't seem like Balinor had that particular illness. He just looked frail, tired, pale, a bit sunken.

"Yes?" he asked, looking between Merlin and Arthur. He didn't appear to recognise the prince.

"Are you Balinor?" Arthur asked.

"Who's asking?"

"I'm Arthur. This is Merlin. May we come in? We have some questions."

Balinor grumbled, something about being a very busy man, but he stepped back and let them inside anyway.

"Thank you, sir," Arthur said.

"You," Balinor said, staring hard at Arthur. "You look familiar."

"Do I?" Arthur asked mildly. "Must have one of those faces."

"Hmph. Well. Get away from the door, will you? Making me nervous. Where'd that third fellow go?"

He meant Arthur's security guard.

"He's fine outside," Arthur said with a smile.

Merlin stepped further into the house, taking a long look around. It was tidy despite the sheer amount of _stuff_ crammed into every corner and on every shelf. A lot of it seemed to be trinkets, small wood carvings, and Merlin imagined they were handmade.

"I haven't been up to any trouble," Balinor said. "I keep my head down."

"That's… good," Arthur said. "We just had some questions. I heard you were a Dragonlord."

Balinor's eyes widened. "Yeah? Where'd you hear that?"

"Geoffrey Monmouth."

Balinor took a step back. "You are him, aren't you? The prince."

"Yes," Arthur said quickly. "But I'm not here to harm you—"

"Yeah, your father did plenty of that already."

"That's what I wanted to ask about. Please."

Balinor gave Arthur a long look before turning his gaze on Merlin. "And who are you?"

"Merlin," he managed. "I'm a friend."

Balinor frowned at him, squinting a little, and Merlin wondered if he could feel or perhaps even see his magic.

"Tea?" Balinor asked suddenly.

"That would be very nice, thank you," Arthur said kindly.

Balinor gave them each another long look before disappearing into his kitchen.

"He seems friendly," Arthur whispered, and Merlin smiled despite himself.

"What is it you'd like to know?" Balinor asked when he returned with some empty teacups. He set them on the dining room table and pushed some old newspapers out of the way so Merlin and Arthur could sit down.

"We heard Dragonlords used to have wings."

Balinor frowned. "They have wings, yes."

"You have wings?" Merlin asked quickly.

Balinor took a deep breath. "Tea," he answered before going back to the kitchen.

Merlin shot Arthur a look, and Arthur just shrugged. They sat in silence until Balinor came back out with the kettle and poured them all a cup. Finally, he sat down opposite them and cleared his throat.

"Dragonlords are a special kind of magic user," he said. "They can speak to dragons, tame them. It's a rare gift."

"A gift you possess," Arthur supplied.

Balinor nodded. "I used to work alongside the crown. Dragonlords were always close with the royal family, whoever was in power. It was that way for centuries. We would command dragon armies, before the dragons died out."

"What happened?" Merlin asked.

Balinor said nothing, just sipped at his tea.

"My father," Arthur said quietly. "He thought…"

"He thought wrong," Balinor said gruffly. "I never wanted the throne."

"What happened?" Merlin asked again.

"The king," Balinor said slowly. "He thought I had too much power, that I wanted more of it. He thought…" He sighed heavily. "He thought my wings were the source of my magic."

Merlin felt sick. "He didn't," he whispered.

"What?" Arthur looked between Balinor and Merlin. "He didn't what?"

"He had them cut off," Balinor said, and Arthur's mouth fell open. "He only spared my life because he thought that was the end of my magic."

"He didn't kill the other Dragonlords," Arthur said, and it sounded like a plea.

"He would have, if there had been any." Balinor took a long sip of his tea. "My magic remains, though. As do other magic users. Many went into hiding. The rest of them left, went to the continent. I went abroad for years, too. Came back just in time to be found by you."

Balinor's gaze settled on Merlin, and Merlin tried not to squirm under the scrutiny. Arthur looked between them for a long moment and then got to his feet.

"If you'll excuse me," he said, "I need to go speak with our friend outside."

He left through the front door, and Merlin could see him standing with the security guard through the window.

"Does he know?" Balinor asked when they were alone.

"Know what?" Merlin asked, his stomach rolling. He was alone with his father.

"About your magic."

"Yes." Merlin swallowed heavily. "But not about my wings."

Balinor's gaze narrowed. "Your what?"

"Wings," Merlin repeated. "I… I'm from Ealdor. My mother is Hunith."

Balinor froze for a moment, and then a small smile crept onto his face. "She found a husband, then?"

Merlin shook his head.

"No," Balinor said, speaking to himself. He looked away from Merlin for a long moment, and when he looked back, his expression was soft. "I've never seen magic thrive around someone as much as it does around you."

"You can see it?" Merlin asked.

Balinor nodded. "I can. From the moment you walked in."

Arthur opened the door slowly, so slowly that it made a horrible creaking noise, and then padded back into the room.

"Am I interrupting?" he asked.

Merlin shook his head, so he sat down and resumed drinking his tea.

"I was just about to tell Merlin here," Balinor said, "that true Dragonlords are only made after their parent dies. Whatever powers they possess while their Dragonlord parent is alive, they only grow stronger once they're dead."

"Why is that?" Arthur asked curiously.

"That's the way of this particular breed of magic," Balinor said with a shrug. "I didn't come into my power until my father passed. He didn't come into his until his mother passed. It's been that way for generations."

"Odd," Arthur commented.

Balinor nodded.

"But the dragons are gone," Merlin said. "That power doesn't matter, anymore, right?"

"It's all the same power," Balinor said. "Magic, dragon magic, it's all connected. If you're strong without it, you're stronger with it. Even if there's no dragons around."

Another silence settled over the group, and Merlin took a long gulp of his tea.

"Thank you for letting us speak with you," Arthur finally said. "We'll get out of your hair, now. May we come visit again?"

"You can try. Not got much time left."

"What do you mean?" Merlin asked, his heart sinking.

"Cancer. Don't have more than a few weeks to go, says the doctor."

"I'm sorry," Arthur said, saving Merlin from having to respond. "I hope your last weeks are peaceful."

"Thank you."

Merlin realised he was gripping his teacup and forced himself to relax his hand.

"Come, Merlin," Arthur said, standing. "We've taken up enough time."

"You won't tell your father where I am, will you?" Balinor asked.

"No," Arthur promised. "We'll leave you be."

"Thank you."

Arthur nodded and shook his hand before going outside, heading back to the car and leaving Merlin alone with Balinor again.

"I'm glad I got to meet you before I go," Balinor said, giving Merlin an awkward shoulder pat.

"Me too." Merlin paused and then pulled Balinor in for a hug. Balinor's arms settled slowly around him, and Merlin held on for a moment before stepping back and leaving without another word.

"Ready?" Arthur asked when Merlin got back in the car.

"Mhm."

"Did you get your questions answered?"

"Mhm."

Arthur glanced over at him. "All right?"

"Mhm."

Merlin's throat was tight, and he kept his eyes on the small house as the cars drove away, imagining Balinor finishing his tea and clearing up their cups.

"Merlin?" Arthur asked quietly.

"I'm fine." Merlin forced a smile. "Just lots to think about."

Arthur nodded and let them ride back to London in quiet.

Merlin wondered if Arthur could ever understand. Then again, he had seemed as upset about Balinor's wings as Merlin was. Maybe he really didn't mind Merlin's magic, maybe he really wasn't going to be an arse about it, like Morgana had suggested. Maybe he could even be trusted with the truth, that Merlin was a Dragonlord, that his power would grow once Balinor died, that he had wings. Maybe Merlin could even convince Arthur that magic wasn't just not bad, but actually good. Maybe once Arthur was king, he would lift the ban.

[ ](https://imgur.com/BzKkEvS)

  
~~~~  


Arthur jumped back into his research after speaking with Balinor, reading every decree, every diary, anything he could find that indicated how the crown had handled magic before Uther had banned it.

He was having a hard time dealing with the fact that Uther had had Balinor's wings removed. It was so above and beyond cruel and unnecessary. And Balinor had said he hadn't even wanted the throne.

Surely Uther must have had another reason. Surely there was some justification, some side of the story Arthur hadn't heard yet. Surely there was a logical explanation behind Uther's behaviour.

Truly, Arthur knew there could be no such excuse, but he wasn't ready to face that. So he dug into his investigation of magic before the purge, learning about how Dragonlords weren't the only magic users that had been close to the royal family, learning that even some members of the royal family had had magic, learning that it really had been a peaceful coexistence.

Meanwhile, Morgana was making more and more public appearances, always without displaying her wings, which was unusual for her. There were strict rules about when the royal family was supposed to show off or hide their wings, but Morgana had long ago made it a personal hobby to ignore them. It was strange to see her being so demure.

She hadn't offered any further explanation for her behaviour on the night she'd lost her wing, and Arthur had given up on asking. He'd resorted to sending her photos of what he was reading, trying to show that he cared and was trying to do better by her. She never responded to any of those messages.

Arthur kept at his research though, and Geoffrey, now that Arthur wasn't asking such scandalous questions, was more than happy to help. He pointed Arthur to all the best sources, to a whole collection of diaries he'd never even seen, to an entire shelf of magical histories he'd missed as a child.

Then, one day, Geoffrey appeared at Arthur's side looking solemn.

"Who died?" Arthur asked to lighten the mood.

Geoffrey didn't smile. "Your Royal Highness, I… I have some unfortunate news."

Arthur closed the book he had been reading. "What is it?" He couldn't imagine what would have the Keeper so distraught, unless someone had smudged a book or something.

"Do you remember when you were asking me about Dragonlords?"

"Obviously," Arthur said. It hadn't been all that long ago.

"When you were asking me about a specific Dragonlord?"

"Yes," Arthur said slowly, wondering where this was going. "Balinor? I was able to track him down, actually. Do you want me to see if he has any diaries to donate?"

Geoffrey looked a little stricken. "Unfortunately, Your Royal Highness, Balinor has passed."

Arthur felt a _thump_ in his chest at that. "Oh," he managed. "He did mention he was ill. Cancer."

Geoffrey nodded. "Officially, that's the cause of death, yes."

Arthur frowned. "What do you mean, 'officially'?"

"It seems," Geoffrey said slowly, his face paling, "there might have been some… foul play."

"Foul play," Arthur repeated.

Geoffrey nodded, and Arthur sat with that for a moment. Surely Geoffrey couldn't mean that someone had killed Balinor? Who would have done such a thing? He was a harmless, sick old man.

Something wasn't right.

"How did you find this out?" he asked.

"I have my sources," Geoffrey said, and Arthur wasn't interested in asking more. He re-shelved his book and excused himself from the Archives, summoning a car.

The drive home felt excruciatingly long. He couldn't get Geoffrey's sad face out of his head. And the way he'd said 'foul play'. And he kept thinking of Balinor, of his cut-off wings, his cancer, his sad eyes.

By the time he was home, Arthur was spiralling. He stood in the shower for a long time, desperate to think of anything else. He thought back to the books he had been reading, back to the fruitless texts he'd been sending Morgana, even back to his lunch with Merlin.

Merlin. Arthur was going to have to tell Merlin that Balinor was dead.

Arthur got out of the shower and fell into bed without his pyjamas. Sometimes sleeping naked helped him sleep better because he would get soothed by the sensation of the cool sheets against his bare skin.

It didn't work, and by the time his alarm finally went off, Arthur had barely got any sleep at all. He felt miserable, but he forced himself out of bed and even managed to force down a breakfast bar.

He wasn't due at the Trust until the afternoon, but he couldn't face the morning alone, so he had his cars drop him off as soon as he was dressed.

When he got to Merlin's office, he found him watching Arthur's latest public information films.

"Please tell me you're not watching what I think you're watching," Arthur said, taking a seat and leaning forward to see Merlin's computer screen.

Merlin closed out of the video, his ears distinctly red. "It's my job, Arthur."

"It's not," Arthur said, laughing.

"Whatever. Can I help you with something, or did you just come in to distract me?"

Arthur's smile faded fast. He opened his mouth, but it took a few seconds for the words to come out. "I heard some news."

"Oh?"

"About Balinor."

Merlin's face fell as well. "I thought he said he had weeks."

"That's… he didn't die from the cancer. Officially he did, but…"

"But?" Merlin asked.

"It seems like maybe someone… there's mysterious circumstances."

Merlin stared at him for a long moment, his expression getting angrier and angrier. "Your family's a real piece of work," he finally said.

"We don't know what happened," Arthur said miserably.

"You know _exactly_ what happened."

"There's no evidence—"

"Arthur," Merlin said, his voice harsh. "It was him."

Arthur didn't need him to clarify who 'him' was.

"Please leave," Merlin said.

Arthur shook his head, desperate to stay, to have Merlin understand that it wasn't Arthur's fault, that he wasn't his father. "Merlin—"

"Please." He looked like he was about to cry, and Arthur's chest grew tight. "Please leave."

"Merlin, we barely knew him—"

"Get out!" Merlin bellowed.

Arthur stood and let himself out, the door slamming closed behind him. He went straight to Buckingham Palace, sending an email to Gaius that they'd have to reschedule their afternoon meeting.

He found his father in his office, reading over something and looking disgustingly composed.

"Arthur," Uther said mildly, barely looking up from his desk. "Did we have something scheduled?"

Those were the first words Uther had spoken to him in weeks, and Arthur was seething.

"What did you do?" he asked.

Uther looked up and sighed. "What did I do when? Where?"

"Balinor," Arthur said through clenched teeth.

Uther's expression didn't change. "You shouldn't have gone snooping."

"You had a man _killed_ because I 'went snooping'?"

"He shouldn't have come back to England."

Arthur stood there, fuming, trying to come to terms with the fact that his father wasn't remorseful, wasn't even expressing fault.

"Father," Arthur said slowly. "Are you listening to yourself? Do you understand what you did?"

Uther glanced back down at what he had been reading, looking supremely unconcerned. "I didn't do anything."

Arthur stormed out, slamming the door as hard as he could and making everyone in the vicinity jump. He ran back out to his car and asked to be taken home.

Time slipped during the ride, speeding up when he managed to stop thinking, crawling to a stop when he relived the conversation he'd just had with his father. Not that it could be called a conversation. Not that most of their interactions could really be called conversations. Not that there were any interactions to be had lately. Not that they had much of a relationship anymore.

When he was home, Arthur hid away in his office and phoned Morgana.

By some miracle, she answered.

"What do you want?" she asked when she picked up.

Arthur folded forward, resting his forehead on the desk, and started to cry.

"Whoa," Morgana said. "What happened? What's wrong?"

"Do you know about the Dragonlords?" Arthur asked, his voice pathetic.

"The what?"

"Dragonlords." Arthur sniffed. "They're magic users."

"Believe it or not, I don't have connections to every other magic user."

"That's not what I'm asking," Arthur snapped. "They were—they were friends of the crown. Royal families and Dragonlords used to work together for centuries."

"How nice for them. Why are you crying over this?"

"Dad had his killed."

"What?"

"His Dragonlord. They were friends, and… and he cut off his wings during the purge, and I found him the other week, and now he's dead."

"What do you mean he cut off his wings? Was he related?"

"No," Arthur said, frustrated. "Dragonlords have their own wings."

"Huh."

"Are you listening to me?" Arthur asked, practically shouting. "Dad had someone _killed_."

The line went silent, and Arthur had to check to make sure Morgana hadn't hung up.

"Clearly this man meant something to you," Morgana said quietly, "and I'm sorry for your loss. But it's time you learn how terrible Uther is."

She ended the call, and Arthur folded his arms over his desk and let himself cry.

  
~~~~  


_"True Dragonlords are only made after their fathers die."_

Balinor's words kept swimming through Merlin's head, as he slept, as he ate, as he showered, as he lived. He couldn't escape them. His magic had always been an enormous part of him, and now it would only grow stronger, more difficult to hide, more dangerous.

Merlin couldn't stand the thought of facing Arthur again, knowing what happened to Balinor, knowing that his own life was now at risk as the next Dragonlord. He couldn't be in contact with Arthur. It was too risky. Arthur knew about Merlin's magic, and if it ever slipped out to his father…

Leave it to Arthur to be the one to put Merlin's whole life at risk like this. Merlin had spent so long resenting the man, and he'd just started to let his guard down and get to know, really get to know him as a person, and this had to happen. Of course Arthur's life was fine, would go on being fine, would never not be fine. Merlin was the one who had to deal with hiding who he was or risk death.

All Merlin could do was hope that Arthur would eventually tire of being so involved with the Trust.

In the meanwhile, he worked remotely, carting his laptop between the Trust's centres during National HIV Testing Week and working from home the week after that. Gaius let him, thinking him still in mourning for Will, and Merlin planned to exploit that kindness for as long as possible.

There was one thing he couldn't work remotely for, though, and it finally came one Saturday night after Merlin had successfully avoided his office all week. It was the annual fundraiser, a grand ball attended by all the socially-minded celebrities the Trust could secure, and Merlin knew he would have to attend.

He put it off as long as he could, though, arriving as late as he dared.

"Merlin," Gaius said, spotting him immediately. "Long time no see. How are you?"

His question was not unkind, but Merlin could read the impatience on his face.

"Better," Merlin said. "How are you?"

"Relieved this night has finally come." He clapped Merlin on the shoulder. "I'm glad you're here. Enjoy yourself. And see that the prince doesn't enjoy himself too much, if you can."

"What do you mean?" Merlin asked.

Gaius gestured across the room, and Merlin looked over in time to see Arthur downing a shot.

"He's been having a rough couple of weeks," Gaius said. "Maybe he misses you."

"Gaius—"

"Joking," Gaius said, patting Merlin on the shoulder again. "It's too bad the princess couldn't join us."

"Yeah," Merlin muttered. "Too bad." He gave a wave and got in line to get himself a beer.

"Hey."

Merlin took a deep breath and turned around to see Arthur standing behind him. He was in an exquisitely tailored suit, his wings on full display.

"Hey," he said.

"It's good to see you."

Merlin nodded and faced forward again.

"How have you been?" Arthur asked.

"Fine."

"Is that why you've been avoiding me?"

"That's a very impressive ego you've got, assuming you're the reason I do anything."

Merlin glanced over his shoulder and felt slightly guilty at the look on Arthur's face.

"I wanted to apologise," Arthur said, coming to stand next to Merlin.

"You don't—"

"I do. My father… he's very difficult. And he was in the wrong."

"Yes," Merlin agreed. " _Obviously_."

"Obviously," Arthur said in a low voice.

He stood next to Merlin as they made their way up the line, and when they reached the bar, Merlin ordered a beer while Arthur ordered another shot.

"To Balinor," Arthur said, holding up his shot.

Merlin let Arthur clink his glass against his bottle.

"To Balinor," Merlin muttered before taking a long gulp.

"Tell me something," Arthur said, leaning close. Merlin could smell the alcohol on his breath. "Why were you so upset?"

Merlin leaned away. "Why do you think?"

"I don't know," Arthur said, pouting a bit. "I've been thinking about it for weeks, and all I can come up with is that…"

"Yes?" Merlin asked in a whisper.

"But it couldn't be," Arthur said, apparently to himself.

"What?" Merlin pressed, wanting Arthur to say it out loud.

"Did you _know_ him?" Arthur asked. "Before we met him?"

"In a way."

"What does that mean?"

Merlin simply shrugged and knocked his bottle against Arthur's empty shot glass before walking away. He didn't owe Arthur anything, least of all an explanation as to why Balinor's death—Balinor's _murder_ —was so upsetting to him.

He walked until he reached the next room and found Freya laughing with some other Trust employees. He joined them, plastering on his best impression of a smile and letting them distract him.

He managed a few hours of something close to fun, sticking close to his coworkers and refusing to budge from his spot, letting his friends get him more drinks until he felt pleasantly warm and was almost able to forget why he had been in a bad mood.

"I'm glad you're here," Freya said, linking her arm with his. "I've missed you."

"Yeah? I've missed you, too. I'll come back to the office next week."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Freya leaned her head on his shoulder, sighing happily, and then she laughed. "Oh dear."

"Hm?"

"Look." She pointed over to the corner, and Merlin turned to see Arthur being corralled by three of his security guards. He looked like he was being slightly belligerent.

Merlin sighed and finished off his own drink, settling the bottle down on the nearest table. He felt weirdly responsible for Arthur's drunkenness.

Extracting himself from Freya, Merlin went over to Arthur's corner.

"Come on," one of the security guards said as Merlin approached. "Move along. Nothing to see here."

"Merlin!" Arthur cried out, reaching past the guard and grabbing his arm.

Merlin let himself get pulled into the corner. He took in the prince's appearance—his messy hair, his red face, the sloppy way his tie was off-centre—and sighed.

"Not having the best night, are we?" he asked.

Arthur pulled Merlin in for a hug. "I am so, so sorry," he whispered, his hot breath spilling over Merlin's neck.

Merlin stepped back gently, guiding Arthur's arms away. "It's all right," he found himself saying.

"He's a monster," Arthur spat.

Merlin didn't think it would be prudent to agree, so he said nothing.

"I'm fucking drunk," Arthur said a moment later.

Merlin chuckled. "Yeah. You are."

"I don't want to go home," Arthur pouted.

"You can't stay here," Merlin said reasonably. "There's photographers."

"Fuck me," Arthur groaned, leaning back against the wall. He gave Merlin a long look, his eyes heavy lidded. "Can I sleep at yours?"

Merlin laughed. "What?"

"I don't want to go home," he said again. "Please? I don't have anywhere else to go."

"You're serious?"

Arthur nodded.

Merlin glanced around at the security guards.

"We have to get him out of here," one of them said. "I don't care where he goes."

"All right," Merlin said slowly. "I guess this is happening, then."

Arthur composed himself as best he could—Merlin straightened his tie for him—and followed Merlin and his guards out of the fundraiser. They all piled into his usual cars, and Merlin provided the address.

"You're not coming in, are you?" Merlin asked the security guard when they reached his block of flats.

"I'll stay in the hall," he answered, and something in his tone made Merlin blush.

Arthur leaned heavily against Merlin, flinging one arm around his shoulders as they made their way towards his flat. Finally, Merlin negotiated Arthur inside and onto the sofa, and then closed the door, feeling awkward about the guard stationing himself outside.

"Do you ever go anywhere alone?"

"Sometimes they let me shit alone," Arthur said bitterly.

Merlin laughed and sat next to him on the sofa. "Sounds like a rough life."

"Fuck off."

Merlin reached out to tousle Arthur's hair, and Arthur leaned into the touch rather than pushing him away. Merlin stilled his hand and then trailed his fingertips down Arthur's face. He held onto his neck briefly before moving his hand to his shoulder.

"Well," Arthur said, and Merlin saw he'd closed his eyes. "That was nice."

"What was nice?" Merlin asked, his voice low and breathy. He wondered how drunk he was, if he was somehow as bad as Arthur.

"No one ever touches me like that." Arthur leaned his head to the side and pressed a kiss to Merlin's knuckles.

Merlin took his hand back, deciding that they were both too drunk.

"I'll get you some blankets," he said, getting up.

Arthur stayed put and watched as Merlin pulled out his extra comforter from the cupboard. He took his tie off slowly, nearly like a strip tease, and kicked off his shoes.

"Do you want to borrow pyjamas?" Merlin asked, bringing the blanket over to the sofa.

"No," Arthur muttered as got out of his suit jacket. "Too tired." He stretched his wings out and lay down, curling up on his side.

"Yeah," Merlin agreed. He draped the comforter over Arthur and turned off the living room light.

He locked himself in his bedroom, stripped down completely, and crawled into his bed naked. He thought vaguely about the last time he'd slept naked, back when that arse had snapped his photo, and stayed awake for a long time, wondering what it would be like to trust Arthur enough to be able to show him his wings.

He drifted in and out of sleep, dreaming fitfully of his shirt ripping open in front of Arthur and his wings falling out, of him drunkenly blurting out his secrets in front of Arthur, of humiliating himself by trying to kiss Arthur.

That last dream woke him up and kept him awake. He didn't think he had those kinds of feelings for Arthur. Sure, Arthur was gorgeous and kind and seemed to be showing a special interest in Merlin, but that was all it was. Merlin couldn't imagine anything more happening between them. Arthur was the prince, after all, and Merlin was…

Merlin was just Merlin.

After that dream, Merlin stayed in bed as long as he dared. He watched the sunlight coming through his window, checked the news on his mobile, and accidentally drifted back off a few times. It wasn't until he heard the toilet flush, letting him know that Arthur was awake, that he got up.

He dressed slowly, pulling on a jumper and a pair of jeans he found on the floor. He put on some socks and then, taking a deep breath, went out to the living room.

Arthur was sitting on the sofa, the comforter folded neatly beside him. He was reading on his mobile, looking remarkably composed considering the hangover he probably had.

"Hey," Merlin said.

Arthur looked up, and he had bags under his eyes. "Hey."

"How'd you sleep?"

"Fine. Thanks for letting me crash here."

"Of course."

"I'm sorry I was—I was a bit much last night. I apologise for imposing."

"You didn't impose." Merlin grabbed the blanket and shoved it back inside the cupboard. "I was happy to help. You were pretty adamant about not going home."

Arthur sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Yeah. Well." He heaved a sigh and stood, stretching out his wings and yawning. "Don't suppose I could trouble you for, like, toast or something?"

"Sure." Merlin went into the kitchen and pulled out a loaf of bread. "How many slices?" he asked.

"One's enough," Arthur said, his voice sounding nearby. Merlin turned to see him standing in the kitchen, surprisingly close.

"Okay." Merlin put two slices in the toaster oven and set the timer.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"That was a question." Arthur huffed at the joke, and Merlin smiled. "You can ask." He leaned against the counter, curious as to what Arthur was about to say.

"You were so quiet on the way back after we visited Balinor. And you talked with him in private. The way you two looked at each other… the way you two looked _like_ each other…"

"None of that was a question," Merlin said quietly.

Arthur frowned. "Was he your father?"

Merlin nodded, unable to confirm it out loud.

Arthur inhaled slowly. "I am so sorry," he said. "If I had known…"

"There's no way you could have known."

Arthur shrugged, and they looked at each other for a long moment.

"Balinor said a Dragonlord isn't fully powerful until his father dies," Arthur finally said.

"Yes."

Arthur licked his lips. "Do you feel more powerful?"

Merlin sighed and shrugged. "I don't know. I've been… I've been thinking about it. I'm not sure I feel much different. I haven't used my magic at all though."

"Will you show me?" Arthur asked, his voice low.

Merlin considered the request and found that he didn't actually mind the idea of doing magic in front of the prince, even despite the obvious risks.

He brought his hands together and closed his eyes, concentrating. He had always been able to summon or make simple things with his magic, ever since he was a child. Anything complex, anything living, had always evaded him. He tried now, though, putting his whole heart into it.

When he opened his eyes, he found Arthur watching him, and he felt his ears burning.

"It's…"

"Show me," Arthur breathed.

Merlin opened his hands, and a small blue butterfly flew out and circled Arthur's head before heading off to explore the living room.

Arthur watched it for a moment and then turned to look at Merlin. Merlin met his gaze and held it, trying to read his expression.

The toaster oven dinged, startling them both.

"Butter's in the fridge," Merlin managed. He got out a knife and some plates, and he and Arthur ate their toast on the sofa, getting crumbs everywhere.

"I can lend you a shirt if you want something more comfortable than that," Merlin offered as Arthur brushed off his button-up.

"That's all right." Arthur finished up his slice and leaned back in the cushions, giving Merlin a long look. "Can I ask another question?"

Merlin shovelled the rest of his toast in his mouth and chewed it quickly. "Shoot."

"Do you have wings?"

Merlin felt a shiver run down his spine, and his feathers ruffled under his jumper, giving him away.

"May I see them?" Arthur asked.

Merlin licked his lips, surprised at how much he wanted to show them to Arthur, to someone who wouldn't take advantage of him, to someone who understood.

"All right." He pulled his jumper off carefully and stood to let Arthur get in a good look.

Arthur stared for a long moment, and Merlin tried to imagine what he was seeing and thinking. His wings were a deep brown, like his hair, and they were speckled with gold toward the ends. Merlin loved his wings, and baring them like this, in such a quiet moment, was overwhelming. He could feel Arthur's gaze sweeping over his wings, taking in the gold, and he fought not to move. He wanted Arthur to see him. He wanted Arthur to know him.

[ ](https://imgur.com/VJvNHes)

"Wow," Arthur said, getting up to trail a fingertip down one of the leading edges. Merlin shivered again, wondering how Arthur didn't realise how intimate that was.

Arthur spread out his own wings, then his arms, showing where his feathers stopped just before his wrists.

Merlin did the same, and Arthur smiled. "Yours are bigger."

"Jealous?"

"A bit."

The butterfly came to rest on the tip of Merlin's wing, and Merlin stilled, watching it.

"Your magic is beautiful," Arthur said quietly.

"Thank you."

"I want you to know," Arthur said, stepping forward and startling the butterfly back into flight. "You're safe with me. I… my father is his own man, and I'm not like him. I won't push you out of the country, I won't cut off your wings, I won't—"

"It's all right," Merlin said. "I know. I trust you."

Arthur nodded, looking relieved, and folded his wings back. Merlin did the same.

"Speaking of… of your father," Merlin said, and Arthur's expression tensed. "I have to assume from the deafening radio silence that he doesn't approve."

Arthur licked his lips. "He… we haven't spoken," he said softly. "Well, we have, but it wasn't…" He sighed and gave a hopeless shrug. "He doesn't approve, no."

"I'm sorry," Merlin said, and he meant it. It was surprisingly unsatisfying to find out that Arthur's life wasn't perfect after all.

Arthur shrugged again. "I suppose I should leave you to your morning," he said, closing the subject.

Merlin found that he didn't want Arthur to leave, but he didn't have any excuse to make him stay.

"Thanks again for letting me crash here," Arthur said as he sat down to pull on his shoes. "Hopefully I wasn't too much of a nuisance."

"Not at all."

Arthur grabbed his tie and suit jacket and loitered by the door, looking like he wasn't quite ready to leave.

"Will you be back at the Trust next week?" he asked. Merlin nodded, and Arthur grinned. "All right. I'll see you there, then."

"See you."

Arthur gave a wave and opened the door to find his security guard in the hall. It wasn't the same one as the night before, and Merlin imagined they had been taking it in shifts.

"Morning," Arthur said.

"Sir," the guard said, gesturing at Arthur's shoulder.

Arthur glanced to the side and saw that the butterfly had landed there.

"I'm taking this friend home," he said, grinning at Merlin before heading off down the hall.


	3. Part 3

[ ](https://imgur.com/1nfYB9G)

On Monday, Merlin returned to the Trust. Arthur was already there when he arrived, standing in the kitchen and chatting with Leon and Gaius. Merlin, as casually as he could, deposited his lunch in the fridge and set about getting himself some coffee.

He tried to avoid looking at the group, but as he was leaving the kitchen, he couldn't help but look over his shoulder at them. Arthur gave him a shy sort of smile, and Merlin felt warm all over as he headed back to his office.

The day passed by normally, with the normal meetings and normal people and normal discussions. It was a nice first day back after avoiding the place for so long.

Then, as Merlin was getting ready to go home for the day, Arthur stopped by his office.

"Our little friend has taken up residence in my garden," he said cryptically.

It took Merlin a moment to realise he meant the butterfly.

"You literally took it home with you?"

"It followed me right into the car."

Merlin shook his head, not sure what to make of that.

"Would you like to see?" Arthur asked.

"See what?"

"My garden," Arthur said quietly.

Merlin blinked. "Your garden," he repeated, astonished.

Arthur looked a little agitated at his non-response. "Yes. I'm… I'm inviting you over."

Merlin snapped out of it. "Yes. I mean… that would be very nice, thank you."

Arthur nodded. "I'm leaving in 15."

"All right."

Arthur nodded again and then left. Merlin sat behind his desk for a long moment, feeling slightly stunned at being asked to visit Arthur's private residence.

He stood and went to the loos to relieve himself and splash water on his face. He didn't know why he felt so nervous.

When 15 minutes passed, Merlin looked around for Arthur but couldn't find him anywhere in the office. He wondered if maybe Arthur had changed his mind.

"Mr Emrys." One of Arthur's security guards found him in the kitchen.

"Yes?"

"Will you come with me, please?"

Merlin nodded and followed the guard out of the office and down to the street where the prince's cars were waiting. The guard opened the car door, and Merlin crawled in, finding Arthur already inside.

"I thought you'd left without me," Merlin said, pulling on his lap belt.

"Nearly did," Arthur teased.

They rode in silence, but it was a short trip, and in no time at all they were at Kensington Palace's police gate. Merlin was required to show his ID, and then they were allowed onto the grounds. Merlin kept his forehead pressed to the window, taking in as much of the palace as he could see.

Then they drove right past it. The cars came to a stop near a cottage behind the palace. It was surrounded by trees and shrubs, well hidden from any prying eyes.

"You live here?" Merlin asked as they got out of the car.

"Where did you think I live?" Arthur asked, grinning.

"I don't know," Merlin admitted. If he'd had to guess, he would have imagined Arthur in a royal suite with too many rooms, too many things, too much space.

Arthur led Merlin into the cottage. It wasn't that small, but it felt cosy. It felt lived in. There were two sofas in the living room, plus a large-screen telly. Through the living room was the dining room, and past that Merlin could see a glimpse of the kitchen.

"This way," Arthur said, leading Merlin into his bedroom.

Merlin followed curiously. Arthur's bed was extremely large—and messy. It was unmade, with the sheets flung to the side as Arthur had left them that morning.

Past the bed was a set of doors, and Arthur opened them to lead Merlin into the garden.

Merlin stepped outside and was immediately greeted by the butterfly. It fluttered around his head, flapping its wings excitedly.

"It remembers you," Arthur said, grinning.

"I suppose it does." Merlin held out a hand, and the butterfly landed on it, coming to rest on his thumb.

"I come out here to think," Arthur said quietly. "It's always distracting me."

"Sorry." Merlin shifted his hand and the butterfly took off again, making a figure-eight between his and Arthur's heads before going over to some bushes.

"I don't mind it."

Merlin watched the butterfly for a minute, taking in how peaceful and quiet Arthur's garden was. He wondered what sorts of things the prince liked to think about out here. He wondered if Arthur ever thought about him.

"Do you like football?" Arthur asked suddenly.

Merlin laughed. "I guess. Why?"

"I recorded a match over the weekend and haven't had a chance to watch it, yet. Would you want to…"

"Sure."

Arthur grinned and led Merlin back inside and into the living room. They each settled on a sofa and Arthur started up the match. Arthur got them some beers a few minutes in, and Merlin relaxed a bit, enjoying the way Arthur liked to shout at the telly whenever something exciting happened.

He liked spending time with Arthur. Arthur was funny and kind. He was prim and proper, but only when he needed to be—or when he was nervous. He was surprisingly normal, with the messy bed and the beers in his fridge and his love of football. His home was warm and welcoming, and Merlin appreciated this glimpse into the prince's private life.

Eventually the game came to an end, and Arthur switched off the telly. He finished off his beer and then stared down at the bottle, avoiding Merlin's gaze.

"Time for me to go?" Merlin offered.

Arthur shrugged. "I guess. I didn't mean to keep you."

"I had fun," Merlin said honestly. "I don't normally watch football."

"No?" Arthur looked up. "I thought you said you liked it."

"I don't hate it. I don't really care about it. I don't have a team I support or anything."

"Blasphemy."

Merlin grinned and took a sip of his beer, which was still mostly full.

"Have you heard from Morgana?" he asked.

Arthur heaved a great sigh. "Yeah. She's still in hiding. I'm worried she's planning something else, something worse."

"What's worse than half a town dying?"

"I don't know." Arthur frowned down at his empty beer bottle.

"When you're king," Merlin asked slowly, and Arthur tensed, "will you allow magic?"

Arthur picked at the label on the bottle, frowning deeply.

"I don't know," he said finally. "She's not making a very good case for it at the moment."

"What about me?"

Arthur shrugged. "You're different."

"Not that different."

Arthur huffed and stood, grabbing Merlin's beer bottle and taking it into the kitchen to dispose of it. Merlin took the hint and got up, ready to leave. Perhaps Arthur needed more time to accept the truth about magic and the consequences of banning it.

"I can get you a ride," Arthur offered as he came back into the living room.

"Thank you."

Arthur went to the front door but paused before opening it. "Thanks for coming over," he said quietly.

"Anytime," Merlin said, and he meant it.

Arthur nodded and then went to go speak to his drivers.

  
~~~~  


**I'm sorry for how our father has acted toward magic. I'd like to see you**

Morgana kept looking at the text message from her brother, trying to decide how to feel about it. Mostly she felt angry. Angry that Arthur thought a simple apology would be enough, angry that he thought it would be so easy to open up the lines of communication again, angry that he still didn't seem to get it.

A smaller part of her was hopeful. Maybe there was some hope for Arthur after all, if he wanted to see her and offer apologies. Maybe he would even stand up for her with Uther. Maybe, when he became king, he'd change things.

That was a _big_ maybe, and Morgana knew it. Still, she had to have hope. She needed something positive to cling to after so many things had gone wrong recently.

Her missing wing still hurt. Her coven had found a doctor to stitch her up, mend her as best he could, but there was nothing that could be done to mitigate the emotional damage. Morgana had always loved her wings. They had made her feel special, powerful, beautiful. They were the one thing that made her truly _belong_ in her family. She'd inherited them from her father, Uther's cousin, and they reminded her of him.

Now she only had the one.

And all those people had died.

Her coven had apologised, explaining that the curse had been stronger than they thought. Morgana wasn't entirely sure she believed them, but it was easier to accept that potential lie than push back. She was too far enmeshed in the coven to want to cause more trouble.

Besides, they were working on a new plan, a better one, one sure to show the crown how powerful magic was. She just needed Uther to realise that he was wrong, that he didn't hold all the power, that he couldn't suppress magic users, and that it was to his own detriment to try. She just needed him to acknowledge his wrong-doing and reverse the ban on magic. She just needed him to see her.

It was only a matter of time before the plan was ready, and then Morgana could make her move.

The day finally came during an ordinary week. Morgana was locked up in her room at the safe house, standing in front of her mirror and examining her remaining wing, when the call came.

She ran down to the kitchen, wanting to see it for herself.

There, on the table, was a dragon egg. She could feel the magic radiating off the egg. There was something inside—something dormant, something asleep, but something alive.

Pushing other coven members out of the way, Morgana walked up to the table and picked up the egg. It was warm to the touch, almost welcoming.

"Morgana," Cenred, the de facto leader of the coven, spoke in his usual low voice.

Regretfully, Morgana set the egg back onto the table. "What's the plan?" she asked.

"We figure out how to wake it up," Cenred answered, "and then we go to Buckingham."

"Yes. I meant, what's the plan to wake it up?"

Cenred stayed silent. Morgana observed the egg, thinking there must be an answer somewhere. Maybe buried in the Archives, maybe written in some history, maybe captured in some correspondence or other.

The answer had to be there, but there wasn't enough time to do that much research.

Luckily, Morgana knew someone who had already poured over all those texts.

"I think it's time I see my brother," she said, taking up the egg again. She knew he would need to see it for himself to believe the threat. And maybe she would be able to make him see what she was trying to do. Maybe she'd be able to get him on her side. Or maybe she'd be able to get him to intervene with Uther on her behalf and make this whole dragon thing moot.

Cenred looked sceptical, but he didn't know Arthur the way Morgana did.

"Trust me," she said.

With that, she took the egg out to the truck, the one shared by all the members of the coven, and drove to Kensington.

The staff at the police gate weren't entirely sure what to make of her sudden appearance, but they let her through without searching the truck. She drove past her own apartment and went straight for Arthur's cottage.

Luckily, he was home, and he let her in without much to-do.

"What's that?" was his first question as Morgana set the egg down on the coffee table.

"A dragon egg."

Arthur gave a slow, awkward laugh. "No, really."

"Really, Arthur."

Arthur looked at the egg for a moment, a frown settling on his face. "Why?"

"Why is it an egg?"

"Why do you have it? Why did you bring it here? Why are you acting like it's normal we haven't seen or talked to each other in weeks?"

Morgana sighed. "Look, I'm not here to get into all that with you. I'm here mostly as a courtesy. And to ask a favour."

"A favour," Arthur said, his voice high. "Of course. And a courtesy! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Morgana rolled her eyes at his dramatics. "I need to know how to wake up the dragon."

"Wake up— _Morgana_ , you can't be bloody serious."

"I'm very bloody serious," she snapped back. "Surely you've read something about how."

"No," Arthur practically shouted. "I haven't. And if I _had_ , I sure as fuck wouldn't tell you! Was that seriously the favour you came to ask?"

"You don't have to yell." Morgana plopped down on one of the sofas. "Are you sure you never read anything about dragon eggs?"

Arthur sighed and sat down on the other sofa, giving her a long look. "I'm sure," he said after a while. "Only ever read about fully-grown dragons."

"Damn."

"Morgana… why are you doing this?"

"I'm sure you can put two and two together, Arthur."

Arthur huffed and pulled out his mobile, typing something quickly before putting it away again. "Listen," he said, "you don't have to do this."

"No? Uther's just going to come 'round on his own, then? He'll suddenly change his mind and lift the ban on magic on a bloody whim?"

"That's not what I meant. Why can't you just… talk to him? To me?"

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yes, although I'm still not sure why."

"I'm sick of being treated poorly just because of how I was born," she said simply. "It's not fair. And I've run out of other options."

"People _died_ because of your last 'option', Morgana. And now you want to sic a dragon on our father? What kind of option is that? How is that going to get you what you want?"

"Once he sees that he can't contain magic, he'll have to lift the ban."

"You do realise that doesn't make an ounce of sense?"

"What else am I supposed to do?" Morgana asked. "I tried showing how magic could be good, and that backfired spectacularly. It's time to use force, to show him that he's not the only one with power, to prove that we deserve rights."

"You're threatening to terrorise the king, and you think that will get you rights?"

Morgana huffed. "You don't understand."

"No," Arthur said. "I don't."

He stood and disappeared into his bedroom, probably to go think in his garden. Morgana had often been able to see him in the garden from her own apartment within the palace proper. He always looked so serious, as if he had any real problems.

After a long while, Arthur came back into the living room, only to disappear out the front door again. Morgana stood and grabbed the egg, wondering if she was being dismissed. Before she could leave, though, Arthur was back—with Merlin.

"Why is he here?" she asked as Merlin stepped inside.

Arthur closed the door. "Because you need to see reason."

"What's going on?" Merlin asked, glancing between them.

Morgana didn't answer, so Arthur said, "She found what she believes to be a dragon egg."

Merlin stared at the egg for a long moment. "Morgana," he said quietly. "Where did you get that?"

"It doesn't matter," she snapped. "I'm going to figure out how to wake it up."

"Why?" Merlin asked.

"Because this is the only way," Morgana said, desperate. "This is the only way."

"I don't know what the fuck she wants," Arthur said.

"I _want_ to be accepted," Morgana snarled. "I _want_ to be able to live my life openly, without shame, without fear. I _want_ to be able to show my power."

Arthur threw up his hands in frustration.

"Morgana," Merlin said, clearly trying to stay calm. "This isn't the way."

"No? I tried—"

"You set a curse on my town and got people _killed_. I know you regret that. I saw how desperate you were that night. You wanted it to stop. You never meant to hurt anyone."

"So?" Morgana asked.

"So! So, don't do this. A dragon? Can you imagine the destruction?"

"I'm not looking to hurt anyone," she said firmly. "Except one person."

"Morgana," Arthur said sharply.

"This is the only way to get through to the man," Morgana snapped. "He doesn't understand pleading, he doesn't understand reason, he doesn't understand kindness or years and years of proving myself. He's a brute, and the only way to get through to him is with force."

"Are you listening to yourself?" Arthur asked. "You're talking about setting a _dragon_ on our _father_."

"Yes," Morgana said, and she could feel herself smiling. "And if he still refuses to change his mind…"

Her threat fell over the room, and it was silent for a moment.

"Was this your coven's idea?" Merlin asked.

"They're standing with me," Morgana said. "They're on my side, the way no one else has ever been."

"They're poisoning your mind," Arthur said. "You never used to be this way."

"Don't pretend you ever knew what way I've been. You've always been on _his_ side. Making friends with Merlin doesn't change that."

"Morgana—"

"No. I'm done." She headed towards the door.

"Morgana, please," Arthur said, a desperate edge to his voice. "Don't go out there."

Morgana scowled at him. "What did you do?"

"What I had to. If you just stay—if we can just talk about this—"

Morgana opened the door and barely had time to register the scene before she was tackled to the ground. Arthur stepped forward and grabbed the egg, passing it to Merlin, and then pulled Morgana back to her feet.

"I tried to warn you," he said.

"Fuck you, Arthur. Fuck you both."

With that, she was escorted into a car. She watched through the window helplessly as Arthur got into the car behind hers. They pulled off, and it didn't take long for Morgana to recognise the route. They were going to Buckingham Palace.

When they arrived, Morgana's old security guards escorted her up to Uther's office, and Arthur trailed behind them. The office was empty when they got there, but Morgana knew better than to think she was getting off that easy.

"What's Merlin doing with the egg?" she asked Arthur as they waited.

"No idea."

"Then why did you give it to him? Do you have any idea—"

"Do you?" Arthur snapped.

Morgana rolled her eyes and took the seat behind Uther's desk. Arthur just glared at her. Ignoring him, Morgana rifled through some of the papers on Uther's desk until he finally arrived.

"What's going on here?" Uther demanded, closing the door and shutting security out of the room. "Where have you been?" he asked Morgana.

"Elsewhere."

"Elsewhere," Uther repeated. "Stand up."

Morgana did so, expecting that he wanted his seat, but as she moved around to the front of his desk, he surprised her by giving her a hug.

"You had us worried," he said.

Morgana allowed the hug for as long as she could stand it, and then she pulled back. "I have magic."

Uther just sighed and shook his head, looking unsurprised and suspiciously unconcerned. He took a seat behind his desk and indicated for Morgana and Arthur to take their seats in front of his desk as well. They did so, Arthur gracefully and Morgana by slamming herself down into a chair.

"Why are you telling me this now?" Uther asked.

"I want you to make magic legal again."

"No," Uther said simply.

"Do you have any idea the kind of damage you've caused by banning it?"

Uther didn't indicate that he did. "It had to be done, Morgana. It's safer this way."

"Safer for you," Morgana said.

"And you."

"It's not 'safer' for me to have to hide who I am all the time."

"Things certainly haven't been 'safe' since you started using your magic," Arthur pointed out.

"That's different," Morgana said.

"How is that different?"

"What's he talking about?" Uther asked Morgana.

Morgana paused, trying to work out how she could play this to her advantage. She just needed to get back to the coven and help them start to rebuild their plan without the use of the dragon egg.

She explained about Ealdor, how she asked for a curse to be set on the water tower so that she could step in and save the day to prove that magic could be a force for good, how the curse had gone wrong and how she'd lost her wing, how she was kept awake at night knowing it was her fault those people had died.

She explained about the dragon egg, how the coven had planned to set it loose on Buckingham Palace so that she could step in and save the day and prove that magic could be a force for good. She explained how Arthur had lost her the egg. She explained that there were no more plots, that she wanted to negotiate peacefully, that she was willing to repent and regain Uther's trust and show him over time that magic deserved to be a freedom.

Arthur looked like he wasn't buying a single word of it.

Uther looked mollified.

"You've been getting yourself into a lot of trouble," he said. "And you're lucky to have escaped punishment, so far."

"Yes," Morgana agreed.

"I will give you one more chance," Uther said as if he were giving her the greatest gift imaginable. "Just one. If you break my trust, I will have your remaining wing cut off."

Morgana nodded. "I will not use my magic against the throne again."

Uther accepted this and stood, ending the conversation.

"Father—" Arthur started, but Uther waved a hand, indicating he wasn't interested.

"Morgana, I expect to see you living back at Kensington," he said as he headed towards the door. "It's not conducive to have you hiding out."

Morgana nodded even though she had no intention of returning to her apartment.

With that, Uther left. Arthur rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, scrubbing his hands over his face.

"Morgana," he said slowly. "Please don't make him regret giving you a second chance."

Morgana stood, unwilling to continue the conversation. She couldn't even be bothered to feel badly about how obviously shattered Arthur and Uther's relationship was. She saw herself out.

Arthur's car drove her back to the cottage, where she got into her truck and drove back to the safe house. Her old security detail followed her, but she didn't care. They wouldn't be able to stop her from conspiring with the coven. And the coven wouldn't be able to stop her from moving forward with their plan, with or without the dragon egg.

  
~~~~  


Merlin slept with the egg on his nightstand, and in the morning he drove out to Ealdor. He parked near the water tower and took the egg into the woods behind it, walking until he was well clear of the town.

He walked until he found a small clearing. There was a tree stump, and he sat down, resting the egg in his lap and trying to clear his head.

The egg was shaped like a teardrop, and it was a lovely shade of blue, almost like the sky. Its shell felt thin, the life inside close at hand, and Merlin didn't know how to stop himself from doing this. It felt so right. He was a Dragonlord, this was a dragon egg—what could be more natural?

Merlin stood and set the egg down on the stump. He placed his hands over it and closed his eyes, thinking about breathing life into it. He whispered, "Breathe", and felt the egg shake in his grip. He tightened his grip, sending his magic and himself into the egg, and then a small crack appeared near the top.

Merlin took a step back, dropping his hands and watching as the crack grew longer. Then another appeared, and a third, and a piece of the shell broke away. A small, white nose poked through, and Merlin held his breath.

The dragon took its time with the shell, knocking piece by piece away until there was enough room to stick its head out. Its whole head was white, scaly, perfect. It continued picking away at the shell until only the bottom remained, a small cup for it to stand in, and then it stomped its little feet and the rest of the egg fell away.

The dragon stood on the tree stump, stretching out its little wings, and peering up at Merlin. It gave a small chirp, and Merlin crouched down in front of it.

"Hello, little one," he whispered. He reached out carefully, but the dragon didn't seem to be afraid of him. He patted its head, then its back, and then he traced his fingers along one of its wings. "Welcome to the world."

[ ](https://imgur.com/Cc3Jhl5)

The dragon chirped again, louder and then louder, startling some birds out of a nearby tree.

"There, there," Merlin said, scratching gently under its chin. "It's all right."

The dragon's cries grew louder, more desperate sounding, and Merlin imagined it was hungry. He had no idea what baby dragons might eat, though.

The sky grew dark as Merlin thought, but it wasn't the slow, subtle darkening of night or a coming storm. It was a sudden snuffing out of the sun, a quick gloom. Merlin glanced up at the sky and then hurried to his feet, standing with his back to the stump, protecting the baby dragon.

There was another dragon hovering above the clearing, a large one, a _very_ large one. It was dark, sort of a brownish gold, and it was so unfathomably large.

It lowered itself slowly, its large wings flapping and sending great gusts of air through the surrounding trees. Then it landed in the clearing, resting back on its haunches, and looked down at Merlin.

"What is this?" it asked, and Merlin wondered if he was going mad.

"You can speak?" he asked stupidly.

The dragon tilted its head a little. "You can understand me."

"I—yes."

"You are a Dragonlord. I did not know there were any left here." His voice was gravelly, deep and rumbly in a sort of dignified way.

"I didn't know there were any dragons," Merlin said.

"There are none. Not here, at least. They left. It was not safe."

"You're here," Merlin pointed out.

"I heard the cry of one of my kind. Please." He nodded his head, and Merlin took a deep breath before stepping aside. "Ah," the dragon said, bending its great neck and lowering its head almost to the ground so it could look at the baby. "A white dragon."

The dragon baby chirped happily, hopping to the edge of the stump and reaching out with its little hands.

"You must name her," the dragon said, turning to look at Merlin.

"Me?"

"You are the one who brought her into this world."

Merlin looked around, taking in their surroundings and the way the sun's light shone into their clearing, making the great dragon glitter, making everything feel new and beautiful.

"Aithusa," he said, and the baby dragon gave a little shiver.

"Good."

"And what is your name?"

"I am Kilgharrah," the dragon said, sitting back up. "What is yours?"

"Merlin."

"Merlin," Kilgharrah practically purred his name. "Yes. You are in danger."

"What?" Merlin glanced at Aithusa, who was preening.

"You, and your lands, and your people."

"I don't have any people," Merlin protested. "I'm not—"

"People _like_ you," Kilgharrah clarified. "Magic users. Unless magic is restored to the kingdom, the land will never know peace again."

"You're talking about Morgana," Merlin said.

The dragon nodded. "The princess is powerful. Her friends, even more so. They had great hope placed in the dragon egg. But they will still attack the king without it."

"How do you know all this?"

"It is not polite to inquire into things that are none of one's business," Kilgharrah said hastily.

Merlin didn't have a response to that.

"You must ensure magic is allowed, that magic users are free to use their skills without worry."

"How am I supposed to do that?" Merlin asked.

"You have a special bond with the prince."

Merlin felt himself flushing even as he shook his head. "We're—we're _friends_ , but that doesn't mean—"

"It means everything. It means you can succeed, if you try. The king is not long for this world, and with you by his side, the prince has all the power to set magic free."

Merlin let those words sink in.

"The king is going to die?" he asked.

"The princess has powerful allies," Kilgharrah said simply.

Merlin sighed and looked down at Aithusa. Morgana had been planning to use her against the king, but all Merlin could see was an innocent, precious thing, something to be protected and guarded and raised in the light.

"Will you take care of her?" Merlin asked.

Kilgharrah shook his mighty head. "She is yours," he said simply. "If she is left in the wild, the princess will find her."

"How do I know what to feed her?"

Kilgharrah chuckled, low and thunderous. "Start with rodents. In time, she will learn to hunt her own meals."

"When will she learn to speak?"

"In her own time," Kilgharrah said, unconcerned. "I must leave you now."

"Wait," Merlin cried out as the dragon prepared to lift off again. "I have so many questions."

"Then perhaps we shall meet again."

Kilgharrah made a gesture that might have been a bow, and then he took off, flying out of sight within seconds.

Merlin stared up at the sky for a moment and then down at Aithusa.

"Rodents, huh?"

Aithusa chirped. Merlin smiled and scooped up the baby dragon, heading back to his car.

  
~~~~  


He drove straight to Kensington Palace with Aithusa in the boot of his car, making a ruckus. When he reached the police gate, he had to press his palms to his car, silencing the whole thing, including the boot and its contents.

"Is His Royal Highness expecting you?" the guard asked.

"No," Merlin admitted.

"Wait here." The guard went inside the little security house, pulling out his radio.

Merlin waited, hoping he would be allowed, hoping Arthur was home, hoping Arthur wouldn't turn him away.

After a few minutes, the guard waved him through, and Merlin drove his car to the cottage behind the palace. Arthur was waiting outside for him.

"This is a nice surprise," he said as Merlin got out of the car.

"I have to show you something," Merlin said, opening the boot.

Arthur looked inside for a brief moment and then closed it, looking around in a panic.

"Merlin," he hissed.

"It's all right—"

"It's not _all right_ , it's a bloody dragon!"

"She's—"

" _She?_ "

"Please," Merlin said, trying to sound rational, "can we discuss inside?"

Arthur huffed but turned to let Merlin in. Merlin opened the boot again and, keeping Aithusa hidden under his jacket, brought her in with him. Arthur didn't look pleased, but he didn't protest.

"How do you know it's a girl?" he asked once they were inside.

"I met another dragon."

"You met another dragon," Arthur repeated, his voice high-pitched and panicky. "Of course you did."

"Maybe you should sit down," Merlin suggested as Aithusa wiggled out from under his jacket. He set her down on the floor, and she hopped over to Arthur's feet and gave his ankles a nuzzle.

"I suppose you think that's sweet," he said flatly, looking down at her like she was something vile.

"Sit," Merlin said again, taking the lead and sitting on one of the sofas.

Arthur sighed and, carefully stepping over Aithusa, took the other sofa.

"You met another dragon," he said when Merlin didn't immediately offer up any information.

"Yes, after I—after she was—"

"Am I to take it that you did this on purpose?"

"I wasn't entirely sure it would work."

Arthur rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. "But it did work."

"Yes, and then another dragon came and told me that Morgana and her coven are going to attack the king."

"Not without the egg," Arthur said in a bored voice.

"Even without it," Merlin insisted.

Arthur shook his head again. "She promised. She swore. The dragon was their only plan."

"She lied."

"And exactly how did this random dragon know all this?"

Merlin paused. "I don't know," he admitted. "But it sounded… legitimate."

Arthur scrubbed his hands over his face. "What am I supposed to do?" he asked. "My father already let her go."

"He let her go?" Merlin asked. "How? Why?"

"He believed her apologies. He believed her when she said there were no more plots. I believed her, too."

Arthur sounded sad, and Merlin wished there was something he could say to make it better, to repair the bonds of the royal family, to make Arthur smile again.

"Merlin," Arthur said quietly, and Merlin followed his gaze to where Aithusa had curled up near his feet. "What are we going to do with her?"

"I don't know," Merlin admitted.

They sat in silence for a while, both of them watching Aithusa and Aithusa watching them.

"She's sort of… glorious," Arthur said, his voice soft. Aithusa looked up at him like she knew he had been talking about her. "I never thought I'd see a dragon."

"Me neither."

Arthur sighed. "I don't suppose you'd like to stay for dinner?"

"Me?" Merlin asked out of surprise.

Arthur cracked a smile. "No, just your pet here."

Merlin blushed. "I'll stay," he said.

Arthur nodded. "I was going to order some burgers from the kitchens."

Merlin only just stopped himself from rolling his eyes. "Of course you don't cook."

"I cook," Arthur said, feigning offence. "Just not well enough to subject you to it."

Merlin smirked. "Thanks."

Arthur shook his head, a smile playing at his lips. He stood and went into the kitchen, and Merlin heard him on his mobile, talking with someone about what he wanted for dinner. He came back with two beers and passed one to Merlin before sitting back down.

"Don't suppose this one will eat a burger?" he asked, gesturing at Aithusa.

Merlin shrugged. "Couldn't hurt to try. It was suggested to me she might like rodents." Arthur pulled a face, and Merlin grinned into his beer. "Her name is Aithusa, by the way."

"You _named_ her?"

"Is that a problem?"

"No," Arthur sighed. "That's a very nice name."

"Thank you. How's the butterfly?"

Arthur shrugged. "Very friendly, as always. It's taken to sitting in my hair."

Merlin warmed at the mental image of Arthur with a butterfly on his head.

"Are you still not sure what you're going to do about magic once you're king?" Merlin asked, letting the thought get past his filter.

Arthur frowned. "Does it matter? I have years to figure that out."

"It matters to me."

Arthur took a swig of beer and said nothing. Aithusa climbed slowly up his trousers, her arms and legs clawing at him until she reached his lap. She curled up there, gazing adoringly across the room at Merlin.

"Don't think this means I'm okay with this," Arthur said, reaching out to stroke her back.

"Hadn't even begun to cross my mind," Merlin teased.

Arthur shook his head, smiling, and spent a while tracing Aithusa's scales while Merlin looked on, trying to imagine a life where he and Aithusa could live openly under the crown's watch.

Their burgers arrived in a brown paper bag—for some reason Merlin had been imagining a silver platter—and Arthur got out plates and set places for them at the dining room table. Aithusa followed Merlin into the dining room, and Merlin lifted her up onto one of the chairs so she wouldn't be relegated to the floor.

"Haven't had anyone over for dinner in ages," Arthur said. "Unless you count Morgana."

Merlin pulled a chunk off his burger and offered it to Aithusa, who gulped it down enthusiastically.

"You're one of those pet owners who feeds their dogs human food, aren't you?"

"Never had a dog," Merlin said, grinning. He ate most of the rest of his burger himself, waiting until he felt full and then offering the last bite to Aithusa.

Arthur did the same, and then they were left at the table with their beers, both of them still watching Aithusa as she poked and licked at her thin wings.

"Can she fly?" Arthur asked.

"Probably not yet."

Arthur nodded and took a deep breath. "Merlin…" Something in the way he said Merlin's name made Merlin shiver. "I was wondering—" His mobile rang, and Arthur took it out of his pocket, frowning. "Sorry. Hello?"

Merlin watched as Arthur's expression fell from mildly annoyed to completely stricken.

"I'm on my way," Arthur said before hanging up. He got to his feet and stood there for a moment, looking lost.

"What happened?" Merlin asked.

"Morgana—her coven…" Arthur looked around helplessly. "My father."

Merlin got to his feet. "What happened?"

Arthur shook his head. "Will you come with me?"

"Yes," Merlin agreed without a second thought.

"She stays here," Arthur said, pointing at where Aithusa was curling up in her chair.

"Fine."

"Let's go."

Merlin followed Arthur out where there was already a car waiting for him. The ride was short, fast, and Arthur spent it staring out the window.

There was no one at the police gate to stop them from riding straight up to Buckingham Palace. Arthur got out to the car and began running through the halls, Merlin following close behind, his mind spiralling through all the possibilities of what was happening. Surely Morgana hadn't attacked the king. Surely she wouldn't actually be so bold, so reckless.

Finally, they reached the throne room. It looked like a war zone. There was a hole blasted in the ceiling, one of the chandeliers had smashed onto the floor, and several of the windows had been blown in. The king was on the ground near the throne, Morgana standing over him. Her coven were scattered throughout the room, each of them looking a little worse for the wear. There were security guards strewn about, none of them moving, few of them breathing.

The coven approached Merlin and Arthur, but Arthur ran past them, making his way to Morgana and shoving her aside. Merlin stayed where he was, letting two members of the coven hold him by the doors.

"What have you done?" Arthur knelt down, grabbing the king's face. "Father. Father, please."

"He's alive," Morgana said.

Arthur stood and rounded on her. "Are you happy now? You've destroyed the fucking palace, killed half the security guards, wounded our father—"

"No," Morgana shouted over him. "I'm not happy. I've never _been_ happy. Until magic is allowed, I will never _be_ happy. My people deserve freedom."

"Your people deserve jail, or worse," Arthur snapped. "You think you deserve anything after behaving this way?"

Morgana scoffed and held out her hands, shoving Arthur aside with magic. Merlin moved without thinking. He surged forward, breaking free of his captors, his hands out in front of him. He knocked Morgana to the ground. She got up before he could pin her, though, and she rounded on him and blasted him to the back of the room.

Merlin crashed into the wall, into a painting, and collapsed onto the floor. When he looked up, Morgana was behind the throne, focusing on holding Arthur back. Merlin shoved his magic at her, she shoved hers back at him, and the rest was a blur. Merlin went flying every which way, his back colliding with the wall, with ceiling, with cabinet, with windowpane. For her part, Morgana was trapped behind the throne, sprawled out on the ground as she tried to dodge Merlin's counter attacks. When Merlin finally managed to overpower her magic and stand his ground, swaying as he was, Morgana took her shot.

She pressed her hands to the floor and closed her eyes. The palace trembled and the floor collapsed, tumbling the contents of the room into the basement.

The ceiling fell in on them as well, and a chandelier fell on Morgana, trapping her to the floor. The coven struggled to their feet and advanced on her. Merlin, still laying amongst the rubble, shoved his magic towards them, forcing them back.

When he turned back around, Arthur was crawling towards his father, tears streaming down his face.

"No, no, no," he pleaded, reaching his father's body.

The king didn't move. Didn't breathe. Didn't hum with a pulse.

Arthur pressed his face to the king's chest and let out a sob.

The chandelier trembled, and Merlin could see Morgana struggling to get out from underneath. He lifted the shattered glass and brass off of her, tossing it aside, and Morgana stayed where she was. Her shirt was ripped open in the back, and there was blood seeping out everywhere. Her remaining wing looked shredded. The bones looked broken, and the feathers were bent or missing, and when she tried to move it, she cried out in pain. She looked like she was dying.

"Leave her," Arthur said, and Merlin looked up to see him kneeling by the king.

Except, the king was dead. Arthur was king. He was kneeling by his father's body, one hand clutched over his father's heart, the other pointed towards Morgana.

"Leave her," he said again, and Merlin did. He came over to Arthur instead, crouching down next to him and putting a hand on his back.

"Arthur—"

"Don't."

Merlin nodded and reached out gently to close Uther's eyes, making it look like he was simply sleeping. Arthur leaned forward, pressing his face to Uther's stomach, his fist clenched in Uther's shirt.

Merlin heard the coven behind him, coming to help Morgana. He watched, unmoving, as they lifted her body and carried her out of the throne room. She left a lot of blood and feathers behind.

Several still minutes later, the palace's security guards started filtering in, some coming in from other basement rooms, others standing above them near the chasm Morgana had created. Arthur stayed where he was, dishing out orders in a deceptively calm voice even as he stayed by his father's side. Merlin stayed where he was as well, one hand firmly on Arthur's back as if it would somehow help.

Finally, they were left alone as guards went to call in the doctors to move Uther's body.

"Arthur," Merlin said quietly. He found that he didn't have anything else to say.

Arthur stood, and Merlin dropped his hand. He looked down at the former king, sad for his friend, glad the monarch was gone, torn and unsure how or what to feel.

He got to his feet and stood by Arthur's side as the king's body was lifted onto a stretcher and taken out of the room.

Arthur looked around, his breathing shallow. "The palace is a wreck," he said blankly.

Merlin reached out a hand and fixed the chandeliers, bringing them back together and raising them up to the ceiling in the throne room. He repaired the windows, sending the glass back to their panes and righting the frames. He did what he could with the floor, replacing most of the parts that had fallen in, leaving just a small, ragged hole.

"Thanks," Arthur said. He sounded numb. Merlin reached for his hand, and Arthur let him take it. "Come home with me," he said, barely audible.

Merlin nodded and followed Arthur back up to the ground floor and out of the palace. They got into the car and were driven back to Arthur's cottage, where Aithusa was waiting for them in her dining room chair.

Arthur finished off the beer he'd had with his dinner and then went to take a shower.

Merlin, not sure what else to do, cleaned up their dinner and then sat in the living room with Aithusa, staring blankly at the dark telly screen, wondering what came next.

He assumed there was some sort of protocol in place for the event of the king's death. He assumed plans were already being put into motion, the news being spread, the story being spun, the funeral being organised.

Finally, Arthur got out of the shower and came into the living room dressed only in a pair of tartan pyjama bottoms.

"Will you come to bed?" he asked.

Merlin set Aithusa down on the sofa and followed Arthur into his bedroom. He took off his shoes, removed his jeans, pulled off his shirt, and crawled into bed in just his briefs.

Arthur rolled onto his side, his wings folded up behind his back, looking small and dull. Merlin slotted his chest against Arthur's back, feeling the warmth of his feathers on his stomach, and wrapped an arm around him.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"Don't," Arthur muttered. "Tomorrow. Sleep."

Merlin nodded and used his magic to put out the lights. Arthur fell asleep quickly, but Merlin lay awake for hours, unable to grasp the notion that he was curled around the king.

  
~~~~  


In the morning, Arthur woke up with Merlin in his bed. He stared up at the ceiling for a long time, breathing deeply and trying to sort out his thoughts.

His father was dead. They'd never got the chance to reconcile.

Morgana was gone, back to God knows where. He doubted he'd ever see her again.

Merlin was asleep next to him. He was warm, and he smelled sort of comforting.

Arthur felt lost. So he got out of bed and went into the kitchen to make scrambled eggs.

Merlin followed shortly after, coming into the kitchen looking bleary and perfect, his wings out and still just in his briefs.

"Sorry I didn't notice you getting up," he said, his voice scratchy.

Arthur shrugged and divided the eggs up between two plates. Merlin took his and followed Arthur into the dining room.

They ate in silence, Arthur forcing himself to clear his plate even though he had no appetite. Merlin finished his, too, and then they sat there, avoiding each other's gaze.

"What happens now?" Merlin finally asked.

"The Accession Council will meet to proclaim me," Arthur said dully. "And I'll have to take oaths of allegiance."

"Today?"

"Today," Arthur said, even though he wanted to hole up with Merlin in his cottage indefinitely. "I'm afraid I'm going to be busy for a while. Might not have time to make it to the Trust."

"Of course," Merlin said quickly. "That's not a problem. Arthur, are you—"

"I have to get ready," Arthur said, and with that he stood and went into his bedroom, closing the door.

He dressed slowly, getting into a black suit and attempting to tame his hair. It was no use, though. He looked like as much of a mess as he felt.

When he came back out to the living room, he found Merlin letting Aithusa play with his wings. Merlin looked up at him, and Arthur went into the dining room to clean up their dishes, only to find that Merlin had already done it.

He heard Merlin going into his bedroom, presumably to get dressed, and Arthur grabbed a pair of shoes and sat on the sofa to lace them up.

"You have to take Aithusa," Arthur said when Merlin reemerged, fully dressed in his clothes from the day before. "She can't stay here."

"Of course."

Arthur stood and looked around his cottage, trying to find anything to look at that wasn't Merlin.

"Hey," Merlin said, stepping up and taking Arthur's hand in his. "Will you be all right?"

The question made Arthur want to cry, but he managed to keep himself composed. He simply closed his eyes and nodded, allowing himself to curl his fingers around Merlin's.

He wanted Merlin to kiss him, to take him back to bed, to erase everything that happened over the past 12 hours.

Instead of all that, though, Merlin stepped away, scooped up Aithusa, and opened the door.

"Text me?" Arthur asked.

Merlin nodded, offering a small smile. "I will."

  
~~~~  


The next few days, the next few weeks, went by in a blur. There were 14 official days of mourning, during which Merlin did his best to keep himself occupied. His coworkers at the Trust treated him gently, as if he might cry at any moment, as if he had been close to Uther instead of Arthur. No one knew that he had been there that night. No one knew what really happened. The official story was a heart attack.

Arthur was all over the news, shown in his dark suits and with his sombre expression, properly in mourning even as he started assuming his new role as king.

King Arthur.

Merlin couldn't quite grasp it. It sounded foreign to his ears, like a strange joke.

Morgana, of course, was largely missing from the press coverage. No one seemed to treat this as odd, though—her feuds with Uther had been long publicised.

In the moments when it was too much, when Merlin was too caught up in what had happened, in what was happening, in what would happen next, he texted Arthur.

 ** _How are you?_** was the first message he sent, a full two weeks after Uther's death.

**Ask me something else**

**_Where are you?_ **

**St James**

**_How's the weather over there?_ **

**You're an idiot, Merlin**

**_Never claimed otherwise. The weather here is only fair. Bit dreary_ **

**Typical London**

That was it for their first exchange. The next week, Merlin sent Arthur a link to a video of a dog dancing to a popular hip hop song. Arthur responded with a link to an article about his supposedly receding hairline.

**_Doesn't look receding to me_ **

**Thanks for the support**

**_Does look like it's getting a bit grey tho_ **

**Har. Har. Har.**

**_And you've got those laugh lines_ **

**I thought people liked those**

**_They're all right_ **

That was it for their second exchange. After that, Merlin made a point to text Arthur every Saturday night. Arthur was never in the same place—one week he was back home in his cottage, the next he was at Buckingham, the next he was in Kensington proper, the next he was back at St James—but his dry humour stayed the same, and he seemed to appreciate the approximation of company.

In the meanwhile, Aithusa was growing. She had started off the size of a chihuahua, but soon she was the size of a beagle, then a retriever, and now a Great Dane. Merlin was buying more meat than he could even store in his freezer, giving her meals twice a day that she devoured with ease.

One Saturday night, Merlin sent Arthur a photo of Aithusa sitting on his sofa, taking up most of the cushion space.

**She's going to become a problem soon**

**_Are you proposing something?_ **

**Any ideas?**

**_None_ **

**Me neither**

Merlin didn't respond, used to their short conversations and assuming that was the end of it. But, a few minutes later, another text came in.

**So when do I get to see the two of you again?**

Merlin went red for some reason, and he went to sit on the sofa, scooting Aithusa out of the way.

**_Dunno, I'm a bit busy_ **

**Was that supposed to be a joke**

Merlin sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face.

**_Sorry. I'm always free, whenever. I'd love to see you_ **

He snapped another picture, this one a selfie with Aithusa's curious face in the background, and sent it.

**_So would she_ **

Arthur responded with his own selfie. He looked tired but lovely, his blue eyes boring into the camera. Merlin saved the photo to his mobile.

He missed Arthur. He missed the easy energy between them, the way Arthur treated him, the way Arthur looked at him. He missed the way he felt around Arthur. He missed the way Arthur had smelled that night as they were wrapped together.

He missed thinking about the possibilities between them. Something about Arthur being prince had been normalised, attainable. Merlin could picture them together, going on dates, making appearances, hiding away in Arthur's cottage.

Merlin knew he had to put those thoughts behind him. Arthur was king now, distinctly unattainable, and there was no use dwelling. Besides, he was mourning and planning for his coronation. He had enough on his plate without worrying about something like Merlin's silly feelings.

**Can I see you tomorrow?**

Arthur's text shook Merlin out of his thoughts.

**I can send a car for you**

**_That would be great_ **

**10 too early?**

**_10 is great_ **

**See you then**

Merlin took a deep breath and then buried his face in Aithusa's wings. It had been nearly two months since he'd seen Arthur. Nearly two months since he'd become king. Nearly two months of nothing but Saturday night texts.

  
~~~~  


In the morning, Merlin took a shower and spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to decide what to wear. He wasn't sure what Arthur had planned for the day, although it wouldn't be surprising if it were just more football and beer. He probably hadn't had a lot of time for that kind of normalcy lately.

When he went down to the street, he found a black car waiting for him, the usual guard standing with the door open for him.

"Thanks," Merlin said, sliding in to the car. He played a game on his mobile during the ride, trying to calm his stupid nerves. He didn't need to be nervous. He was just going to spend the day with a friend. And, sure, that friend happened to be the king, but stranger things had happened. Maybe.

Arthur was waiting outside the cottage when Merlin's car pulled up.

"Hey," he said as Merlin got out of the car. "How was the ride?"

"Fine," Merlin answered, taking a look at Arthur. He seemed tired.

"Come in?"

Merlin followed Arthur into the cottage, leaving the cars and security guards outside.

The cottage was a bit of a mess inside. There were suit jackets and towels strewn across the sofas, newspaper and magazines stacked on the dining room table, bottles of beer perched on side tables and bookshelves.

"Sorry," Arthur said, kicking the door shut behind him. "It was supposed to be cleaned this morning, but…"

"It's fine," Merlin said, shooting Arthur a smile. "My place is a mess right now, too. Aithusa keeps getting into everything."

"I bet. Is she turning into a nuisance?"

"She's just growing." Merlin bit his lip. "I'm not sure how long I can keep her in my flat."

"What's the other option?" Arthur asked warily.

"I'm not sure there is one. Kilgharrah said—"

"Who?"

"The other dragon I met. He said that if I release Aithusa into the wild, Morgana will find her."

Arthur frowned. "She wouldn't."

"She might."

"She couldn't," Arthur clarified. "She's being confined."

"Confined," Merlin repeated. "You found her?"

"She came to me," Arthur said. He sank down onto one of the sofas, and Merlin sat on the other. "She asked me to lift the ban on magic."

"What did you do?"

"I had her detained. We can't charge her for murder when the official cause of death is a heart attack, but… doesn't mean we can let her roam free, either."

"Where is she?"

"Windsor. She's under heavy security. I'm not sure what else to do with her."

"I'm sorry," Merlin said, and then, before he could stop himself, "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for what she did, I'm sorry I couldn't stop her in time, I'm sorry for what you've been going through—"

Arthur held up a hand, and Merlin stopped his babbling.

"I don't blame you for not stopping her," he said quietly. "You did what you could."

Merlin nodded, and they held each other's gaze for a long moment.

"So…" Merlin licked his lips. "Are you going to lift the ban on magic?"

Arthur huffed. "I don't—I don't know, Merlin. What would you have me do? Morgana has done nothing but used her magic against the rest of my family—"

"What other choice did she have?" Merlin asked.

Arthur shook his head. "I don't want to have this argument."

"I'm not going to act like it's fine that an integral part of myself and my life is illegal."

"I can't—"

"You can, is the thing. You're just choosing not to. You've seen that magic can do good. You've seen what happens when it's systematically suppressed. What are you going to do about it?"

Arthur set his jaw. "Merlin..."

Merlin raised his eyebrows, challenging Arthur to ask him to drop it.

"Fuck," Arthur muttered, getting to his feet. He went through his bedroom out into the garden. He left the door open, and Merlin could see the butterfly flitting around his head.

He stayed where he was for a few minutes, letting Arthur cool off and thinking about how easy everything had been between them before Morgana dumped this mess in their laps.

Eventually, Merlin got up and joined Arthur out in the garden. Arthur had his hand in front of him, the butterfly resting on his palm. He looked fraught.

Merlin put a hand on his back, feeling his feathers through his shirt. Arthur sighed and dropped his hand, the butterfly hovering for a moment before disappearing into a bush.

[ ](https://imgur.com/MsyMOuE)

Before Merlin could think of what to say, Arthur turned and pressed their foreheads together. Merlin gasped and tightened his grip on Arthur's back as Arthur got a hand on his neck. Arthur's fingers played with the hair at his nape and he shivered, pulling Arthur a fraction closer.

"Merlin," Arthur breathed.

"You don't have to say anything," Merlin whispered.

Arthur swallowed, and Merlin could feel his heart beating in his chest, so close to his own. The moment stretched out, their breaths mingling, and suddenly Merlin couldn't stand the tension. He ducked his head down, pressing a kiss to Arthur's neck.

Arthur's breath hitched and he tilted his head, giving Merlin permission, and Merlin kissed that glorious stretch of skin again. And again. He licked at Arthur's collar bone, nipped at his jaw, kissed every line of muscle he could find. He took Arthur apart, feeling him getting hard against his thigh, listening to his heavy breathing, devouring every inch he could manage.

When he kissed his way up to Arthur's ear, Arthur lost his patience and grabbed at Merlin's hair, pulling him in for a proper kiss. Merlin sighed against his lips, delirious at finally having them pressed against his own.

Merlin slid his hand under Arthur's shirt, getting his fingers on the small of Arthur's back, and Arthur groaned, tugging slightly on Merlin's hair. Merlin huffed and got his other hand between them, trailing it down Arthur's chest and then cupping his hard cock through his trousers.

"Merlin," Arthur moaned without breaking the kiss.

"Yeah."

"Inside."

Merlin broke away and tugged Arthur inside, pushing him against the door to close it and moving in for another kiss. He worked to undo Arthur's flies, trying to ignore the way his fingers were shaking. Arthur gasped when Merlin finally succeeded and shoved his hand in Arthur's pants, getting his hand around Arthur's cock and giving it a hard stroke.

"Merlin," Arthur said, low and needy. His voice went straight to Merlin's own cock.

"God, I've been wanting you," Merlin said, building up a rhythm. Arthur looked like he was having trouble staying on his feet. Merlin could feel him shaking as well, and he wondered how long Arthur had wanted this, wondered how long it had been since he'd had this at all.

He pushed Arthur's pants down to his thighs, getting a better grip on his cock, and Arthur bit down on his lip, muffling a groan. Merlin licked up Arthur's ear, and Arthur's whole body jerked, his cock pulsing hotly in Merlin's hand.

"Merlin," Arthur said again, and this time there was an edge to his voice.

Merlin nipped at Arthur's lobe. "Do we need a condom?" he asked.

"What?"

"I'm going to go down on you. Do we need a condom?"

Arthur gulped and shook his head, so Merlin dropped to his knees and, keeping his hand on Arthur's cock, pressed a kiss to its head. Arthur grasped uselessly at Merlin's hair, making muffled, bitten-off noises. Merlin took the tip of Arthur's cock into his mouth, then another inch, and then another, until it sounded like Arthur had forgotten how to breathe. He pulled back, and Arthur gasped, coming suddenly all over Merlin's tongue.

Merlin sucked him gently through it, lapping up every drop, and then pressed kisses along the length of his cock as he caught his breath. Finally, Arthur leaned down and grabbed at Merlin's shirt, pulling him back up for a rough kiss.

"What would you like?" Arthur asked, his hand drifting over Merlin's trousers.

Merlin chuckled at the question. "Anything."

Arthur paused, looking unsure, so Merlin undid his own flies and guided Arthur's hand to his cock. Arthur took a firm grip, using his other hand to lift Merlin's chin so they could kiss again. Merlin panted against Arthur's lips, trying to maintain his composure as Arthur started stroking him. He felt too close to the edge, too wound up, too ready.

Arthur kissed over to Merlin's ear, and Merlin's knees buckled. He grabbed onto Arthur's shoulders, trying to stay upright even as Arthur's hand moved faster on his cock.

"Here," Arthur said, turning them around so Merlin could lean against the door. Merlin grabbed at the doorknob, holding on for dear life. "Condom?" Arthur asked, mouth pressed to Merlin's ear again.

Merlin shook his head, trying to prepare himself, and Arthur got down on his knees. He glanced up at Merlin, but the sight was too much, and Merlin slapped his other hand over his eyes as Arthur tugged at his jeans. Arthur licked gently around the head of his cock, and Merlin breathed hard, pressing his arse back against the door so he wouldn't thrust forward into Arthur's mouth.

Arthur went slowly, taking Merlin in bit by bit, bobbing his head along to an unhurried rhythm, and it was driving Merlin mad. He needed more, but he wanted this moment to last for so much longer. Arthur was wonderful, and Merlin wanted him on his knees for as long as possible.

Gradually, though, Arthur picked up speed, and Merlin's tentative control started slipping. He could feel it building up from his toes, from his fingertips, from the back of his neck. He felt hot and wild all over, and he grasped roughly at Arthur's shoulders.

"Arthur," he warned, his voice completely ruined.

"Mhm," Arthur murmured without taking Merlin's cock out of his mouth.

"God—" Merlin groaned shakily, his thighs trembling with the effort of keeping him upright as he came in Arthur's ready, eager mouth.

Arthur licked him firmly as he came, the sensations eventually getting to be too much as Merlin's orgasm subsided, and he pushed on Arthur's shoulders until he finally sat back on his haunches and looked up at Merlin.

His face was flushed, his lips red and wet, his hair a mess. Merlin lifted his chin, pulling him to his feet, and gave him a long kiss. Arthur leaned into it, pressing Merlin against the door, and got both his hands in Merlin's hair. Merlin snaked his arms around Arthur's back, holding him close.

The moment went on, and on, and on, until finally Arthur pulled back and gave him a long look.

"Well," Merlin said, not sure what to do under the scrutiny.

Arthur smirked. "Yeah. Thank you."

Merlin smiled and brushed his thumb over Arthur's lower lip. "You don't have to thank me."

"Not sure what else to say, to be honest."

"You should invite me to bed."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"All right." Arthur kissed Merlin's lips, then his cheek, and then his ear. "Will you come with me to bed?" he asked, his voice low and full of meaning.

Merlin shivered and nodded. Arthur grinned and stepped back, working to get out of his clothes. Merlin did the same, and Arthur tugged him onto the bed. They lay together, facing each other, for a long moment. Then Arthur reached around and ran his fingers along the leading edge of one of Merlin's wings. Merlin gasped, slotting closer and resting his hand on Arthur's chest.

"Your wings are beautiful," Arthur whispered, brushing his hand over some feathers. "You're beautiful."

Merlin grinned and pulled at Arthur's lower lip with his teeth, making Arthur groan. "You're beautiful, too. Your feathers. And your silly face."

Arthur grinned and rolled on top of Merlin, giving him a wet kiss. He was hard again, as was Merlin, and Merlin reached between them and took both cocks in his hand, doing his best to stroke them together.

Arthur huffed and moved Merlin's hand to his own cock before taking Merlin's cock in hand, their wrists knocking together as they jerked each other off.

Merlin sat up, spreading his legs and getting his knees on either side of Arthur's hips. Arthur slotted his legs under Merlin's, and they scooted close together, leaning in for a sloppy kiss.

Merlin stretched out his wings and brought them forward, encompassing Arthur in a feathery embrace. Arthur pulled back, looking surprised and overwhelmed.

"Hey," Merlin whispered, giving Arthur a squeeze with his wings.

Arthur closed his eyes and took a deep breath in before shuddering and coming all over Merlin's hand with a wounded sort of sound. Arthur's grip on him went loose as he came, and Merlin leaned forward for a kiss, focusing everything he had on Arthur's pleasure.

With a huff, Arthur guided Merlin's hand off his cock when it became too much. Merlin rubbed his hands up and down Arthur's thighs instead, soothing him as he sat there with his eyes still closed.

"All right?" he asked.

Arthur nodded, swallowing before opening his eyes and licking his lips. "Your wings," he sighed.

"Yeah," Merlin said with a smile. "My wings."

Arthur stretched out his own, resting them on top of Merlin's, and they sat there for a moment, listening to each other breathe.

Then Arthur pushed Merlin down and started sucking his cock without preamble. Merlin sighed happily, tangling his fingers in Arthur's hair and guiding the speed until Arthur found a rhythm that left him right on the edge. Then he just fisted the sheets and let Arthur take him apart.

He came in a slow wave, his back arching off the bed and mindless sounds escaping his lips. Arthur continued licking and sucking and kissing until he was completely soft, and then he licked and sucked and kissed a trail up his stomach, his chest, his neck, until finally he reached Merlin's mouth.

Their kiss was light, soft, teasing, and Merlin broke away smiling.

"Inviting you to bed was an excellent idea," Arthur said, and Merlin laughed.

"Yeah, I suppose it was pretty good."

Arthur grinned and rolled off, landing on his back next to Merlin and letting out a satisfied sigh. He reached for Merlin's hand, and they lay there for a few minutes, watching the afternoon sun dance through Arthur's windows.

"Do you want lunch?" Arthur finally asked.

Merlin sniggered and turned onto his side, draping an arm across Arthur's chest and pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

"Lunch sounds excellent."

"Will you judge me if I make us some boxed cheesy pasta?"

Merlin snorted. "No," he managed, trying not to laugh.

"It sounds like you're judging."

"Nope," Merlin said, biting down a chuckle. "Not judging at all."

Arthur sat up and leaned down to nip at Merlin's nose. "Good." He slid out of bed and went into the kitchen, still naked.

Merlin cleaned himself up in the en suite and then went to the kitchen as well, wrapping his arms around Arthur's chest as he boiled some water on the cooker.

"Hey," Arthur said.

Merlin pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. "Hey. Can I just say, I find it delightful that the king is making me lunch."

Arthur tensed. "Please don't ever think of me that way," he said quietly.

Merlin realised his mistake too late. He pulled at Arthur's shoulder, forcing him to turn around.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't think of you that way."

"How do you think of me?"

"As Arthur. My friend."

Arthur was quiet for a moment, and then he quirked an eyebrow. "Do you do that with all your friends?" he asked, glancing at his bedroom.

Merlin grinned and gave him a soft kiss. "No."

"Good." Arthur turned back around. "There's some bowls in the cupboard."

Merlin pressed another kiss to the back of his neck and went to fetch the bowls.

  
~~~~  


Arthur decided to surprise Merlin the next day by showing up at the Trust for the first time in months. He found Merlin in his office, reading on his computer.

Arthur knocked on the doorframe, and Merlin looked up.

"Hi," he said, sounding surprised.

Arthur grinned. "Hi. May I come in?"

Merlin nodded, and Arthur stepped in, leaving the door open. He settled in a chair, and Merlin gave him a look that made him hot all over.

"What are you doing here?" Merlin asked, careful to keep his voice quiet.

"I came to meet with Gaius. To discuss how I might continue supporting the Trust despite my new responsibilities elsewhere."

"That's… that's very nice of you."

Arthur smiled. "It's the least I can do."

"Well, I… look forward to continuing our partnership."

Arthur winked, and Merlin flushed.

"I'm a bit late to my meeting with him, actually," Arthur said, getting to his feet. "Terribly rude of me to keep him waiting." He leaned over Merlin's desk and added in a low voice, "Text me, later?"

Merlin nodded, and Arthur grinned.

"It was good seeing you," Arthur said before leaving Merlin's office and going to track down Gaius.

Gaius ended up spending most of the meeting trying to convince Arthur that he'd done enough, but Arthur wasn't having it. He might be king, but it was up to him to decide what that was going to look like, and he didn't want to stop working.

When the meeting was over and Arthur was back in his car on the way to Buckingham Palace, he pulled out his mobile and found a text from Merlin.

**You're very distracting, did you know that? x**

Arthurs smirked and took a quick selfie, making sure to use his best smile. He sent it off and Merlin's reply came within seconds.

**YOU'RE VERY DISTRACTING, DID YOU KNOW THAT?**

**_What are you doing for dinner?_ **

**Dunno. Any thoughts?**

**_Could I come over? I want to see Aithusa. We can do takeaway, my treat_ **

**Sounds perfect x**

Arthur sent back a smiling emoji and tucked his mobile away, determined to get through the rest of his day without more distraction.

He didn't exactly succeed, but he managed to get through all of the official business that was on his schedule for the day. It took longer than it might have otherwise, but Arthur chalked that up to his being new rather than his being distracted by his plans for the evening.

Finally, he was done for the day, and it was nearly dinner time already. He hurried to his cars and sent off a text to Merlin to let him know he was on his way.

When Merlin opened the door to his flat, his hair looked wet and soft, like he'd just got out of the shower.

"Hey," he said, stepping aside.

"Hey." Arthur came in and closed the door behind him, leaning in to give Merlin a kiss. "Where's—" He cut himself off when he spotted Aithusa on the sofa. She was giving him an appraising look, as if surprised to see him again. "Holy shit, she's huge."

"Yeah," Merlin chuckled. "It's rather like having a baby elephant in the flat."

"We should set her free," Arthur said. "She's not meant to be an indoor pet."

"What about Morgana?"

"She's not going anywhere anytime soon," Arthur tried to assuage him.

"Are you sure?" Merlin asked. "She has magic, she could probably leave pretty easily if she wanted to."

"She doesn't seem to want to," Arthur lied.

"Still."

Arthur sighed. "If I tell you something, will you promise not to hate me?"

Merlin frowned. "Why would I hate you?"

Arthur glanced over at Aithusa. "Her apartment's warded against any use of magic."

"How's that?"

"It's always been that way," Arthur said. The histories he'd read hadn't specified who had warded it or what the initial intention of it was. They'd only mentioned how it had ended up being used. "I think the old kings used to hold people there for interrogation."

"You have her in a cell?"

"It's an apartment," Arthur promised. "It's just a special one."

There was a pause as Merlin thought that over, and then he asked quietly, "Have you thought any more about what you're going to do about magic?"

"Yes," Arthur said, because he had. He didn't want to elaborate, though, so he left it at that and Merlin took the hint.

"What would you like for dinner?" Merlin asked.

Arthur pulled out his mobile to see what was nearby, and the two of them stood in the kitchen for a while, each of them looking at various menus, until they decided to keep it simple and just order a pizza.

They ate on Merlin's sofa, feeding Aithusa a few slices and trying to watch a film without getting distracted by her. In the end, Merlin turned off the telly before the film had ended and straddled Arthur's lap, leaving Aithusa to eat the rest of their pizza.

Arthur slid his hands up Merlin's thighs and held onto his waist, smiling up at him.

"Can you stay the night?" Merlin asked.

Arthur nodded and leaned up for a kiss. Merlin sunk down into Arthur's lap, digging his fingers to Arthur's hair. Arthur let the kiss carry on, getting lost in Merlin. He was so eager, so lovely, so sexy, and Arthur wanted every bit of him.

He started rocking his hips against Arthur's, creating friction between them. Arthur groaned and slid his hands around to Merlin's arse, gripping him and pulling him harder against himself.

Merlin broke their kiss to take off his shirt, freeing his wings. He stretched them out, showing them off, before pulling them forward, over his head, making a canopy for him and Arthur.

Arthur sighed and leaned up for another kiss. He loved Merlin's wings and how comfortable he was using them this way. Arthur had guarded his for most of his life, going out of his way to avoid having them touched, even by people he was close with.

"Arthur," Merlin whispered against his lips. "Shall we try for the bedroom?"

Arthur nodded, and Merlin hopped off his lap. He folded his wings back and led Arthur into his room, closing the door against a curious Aithusa. He crowded Arthur against the bureau, pulling off his shirt and then trailing his fingers along the leading edges of his wings.

Arthur shuddered as the sensation sparked through him, and he rose onto the balls of his feet as a soft, content sound escaped him.

"You're like a cat," Merlin teased.

Arthur stretched out his wings, using them to pull Merlin in for a hug.

"They're sensitive," he whispered.

"Yeah?" Merlin pressed a kiss to the edge of Arthur's wing. "That's good to know."

"Do you have any sensitive bits?" Arthur asked, working to undo Merlin's flies.

"You'll have to find out for yourself."

"I guess that's fair." Arthur pushed Merlin's clothes to the floor. "Get on the bed."

Merlin did so, sitting on the edge and then crawling backwards until he reached the pillows.

"Lie down," Arthur said, getting out of the rest of his clothes.

Merlin did, and Arthur sat at the foot of the bed, tracing the veins on the top of Merlin's feet.

"What are you doing?" Merlin asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

"Trying to find your sensitive spots," Arthur said. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to one of Merlin's ankles. "Am I hot or cold?"

"Very cold," Merlin said, grinning. Arthur gave Merlin's leg a squeeze as he kissed up his calf to his knee. "Warmer," Merlin said. Arthur kissed up his thigh, and Merlin sighed as Arthur's breath ghosted over his cock. "Hot."

Arthur chuckled and pressed a single kiss to the seam of Merlin's balls. "That spot doesn't count."

"Cold, then." Arthur kissed over to Merlin's hand. "Still cold." Arthur kissed up to his elbow. "A little warmer." Arthur dragged his lips up to Merlin's shoulder as he reached down to stroke Merlin's cock.

"Hot or cold?" he asked before pressing a kiss to Merlin's shoulder.

"Warm," Merlin breathed, shifting his hips.

Arthur licked up Merlin's neck and nipped at his jaw. "Hot or cold?"

"Warmer."

Arthur gripped Merlin's cock a little tighter. "Not many places left," he teased. He surged up to kiss Merlin's forehead. "Hot or cold?"

"Cold," Merlin said, pushing Arthur away with a laugh.

Arthur moved back, pressing his lips right to Merlin's ear. "Hot or cold?"

Merlin gasped, his back arching off the bed, and Arthur chuckled. Merlin groaned and reached out to grab his arm, probably signalling that he wanted Arthur to slow down. Arthur had no intention of doing so.

"Hot?" Arthur asked, and then he flicked his tongue out, licking up Merlin's ear.

Merlin bit back a noise and gripped Arthur's arm harder, but Arthur still didn't relent. He stroked Merlin faster, building up a quick rhythm. His own cock was jerking, leaking, but he ignored it, focusing on Merlin and the delicious sounds he was making.

"Hot," Merlin whimpered as Arthur started nibbling on his earlobe. "Fuck, Arthur—"

"Yeah," Arthur whispered, loving how Merlin was falling apart right in front of him. "Come on." He licked up Merlin's ear again, and Merlin shuddered.

Arthur shifted closer, getting his mouth right up against Merlin's ear, and flicked his tongue out again as he brushed his fingers against the head of Merlin's cock. Merlin cried out, his fingernails digging into Arthur's arm, and came over his stomach. Arthur kept his mouth on Merlin's ear, kissing it gently as he continued stroking Merlin's cock even as it started to soften.

Merlin took a few deep breaths, and Arthur gave his ear one last lick before sitting up and smiling down at what he'd done.

"I think I found your sensitive bits."

Merlin smiled lazily, reaching out to trail his fingers up Arthur's thigh. Arthur's cock twitched with interest. "Nah, you were still pretty cold."

Arthur smirked and leaned down for a kiss. "Guess I'll have to try again next time."

"That could be arranged." Merlin heaved a great sigh and rolled over to clean up his front with some tissues.

When he lay back down, Arthur, humming innocently, guided Merlin's hand to his cock.

Merlin laughed and turned onto his side to get a proper grip. "Was that a request?"

"Mhm."

Merlin leaned down to kiss Arthur's chest, and then he kissed down his stomach and the trail of hair below his navel. Arthur sighed as Merlin sank his mouth around his cock, tangling his fingers in Merlin's hair.

Merlin licked up Arthur's cock and then sucked the head into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it until Arthur moaned. Then he dropped lower and sucked one of Arthur's balls into his mouth. Arthur let out a groan and tightened his grip on Merlin's hair, tugging until Merlin let go and moved onto the other one.

"Jesus," Arthur whimpered, lifting his hips. Merlin was all over him, and it made him feel wanted in a way that was overwhelming. He wasn't used to his body being worshiped like this, kissed on so many places, taken so far past the normal realms of pleasure.

Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur's thighs, spreading them as he kissed a trail down from Arthur's balls.

"Is this all right?" Merlin asked, glancing up at Arthur.

"I… think so?" Arthur said. He was pretty sure he knew what Merlin was asking permission to do, and the thought of it made him hot all over.

"I don't have to," Merlin said, shifting up.

"No, no, I just… you can… can we try?" Arthur knew he'd given his nerves away, but Merlin didn't look deterred. He just grinned and flicked his tongue out, and Arthur's breath hitched at the hint of what was to come.

"Let me know if you want me to stop," Merlin said before diving in.

Arthur just groaned, his fingers digging into Merlin's hair as Merlin licked around his hole. It felt so strange, so wrong and yet so good, so painfully, dreadfully intimate. Arthur almost couldn't believe it was happening. Something burned through him, and it was much, much too much, but he was so desperate for the moment to stretch out as long as it could.

Spreading his legs wider, he said, "God, that feels incredible." His voice was rough, low, almost foreign to his own ears.

Merlin reached up, pulling Arthur's hand out of his hair and putting it on Arthur's cock instead. Arthur moaned and stroked himself loosely, slowly, teasingly. He was so close, but he dragged it out, wanting more of Merlin and his tongue, and Merlin gave it to him. He started getting sloppy with it, and then Arthur couldn't stand it anymore. He gripped himself harder and let himself come, feeling his muscles clenching against Merlin's lips.

As he started to come down, Merlin sat up, watching as Arthur continued to pull on his cock, and wiped off his mouth. Arthur looked up at him, his chest heaving for breath.

"That…" he trailed off, at a loss for words.

Merlin grinned and kissed a line up from Arthur's cock to his chest. Arthur carded his fingers through Merlin's hair, slowly catching his hearth as Merlin's head rested on his chest.

"My arse feels… very wet," Arthur finally said. He didn't want to interrupt their post-coital bliss, but the sensation was getting far too uncomfortable.

Merlin shook with laughter. "Do you want to take a shower?"

"Together?" Arthur asked hopefully.

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

Merlin grinned and got off the bed, pulling Arthur with him and into the shower.

  
~~~~  


The next weekend, Merlin drove himself and Arthur out to the woods near Ealdor, some of Arthur's security guards driving behind them. Aithusa, too large to be put in the boot, was taking up the entire back seat, occasionally sticking her head between the front seats to watch out the front window.

Merlin parked at the water tower, and he and Arthur were careful not to bring up what had happened there. They had fallen under a silent agreement not to discuss magic, at least for the time being. Merlin planned to wait until after the coronation, when Arthur would be a little less busy, before broaching the subject again.

He led the way through the woods, Arthur and Aithusa trailing behind him, Arthur's guards trailing behind them. Eventually Arthur called for his guards to stay put, and he, Merlin, and Aithusa travelled the way of the way alone.

The clearing looked smaller, though perhaps that was just because Aithusa had grown so large. Arthur settled on the tree stump, watching with amusement as Merlin unpacked Aithusa's last meal from his bag.

"I brought you steak," he said, unwrapping the dripping piece of meat. "Your favourite."

He'd barely even held it out before Aithusa got her mouth on it, scarfing it down in record time. She nuzzled him—probably her way of asking for more—and Merlin patted her head.

"You're going to miss her," Arthur said from the stump, and it wasn't a question.

"Yeah." Merlin pressed his forehead to Aithusa's. "Will I see you again?" he asked quietly.

Aithusa nodded, and Merlin grinned. She hadn't said anything, ever, but he got the distinct impression that she had understood his question and known how to answer.

"Good." Merlin pressed a kiss to her scaly skin before taking a step back. "I hope you find Kilgharrah."

Aithusa let out something like a roar, scaring away all the birds in the clearing. Merlin chuckled and went to stand over by the tree stump. Arthur stood and grabbed Merlin's hand, squeezing it tight.

"Now what?" Arthur asked after a moment.

"Now we… leave, I guess."

Merlin wasn't ready to go, but he didn't know what else to do.

"All right." Arthur kissed Merlin's temple gently. "She'll be all right."

Merlin nodded and pulled Arthur along, heading back into the woods. He heard a ruffling sound behind him and turned to see Aithusa stretching her wings, standing on the tips of her feet. She started flapping, slow at first, cautious, and then faster and fasted until she lifted off. She rose straight up and then hovered over the clearing, looking down at Merlin and Arthur.

"Take care of yourself," Merlin shouted up at her.

Aithusa chirped and took off, quickly moving out of sight. Merlin sighed and watched the sky for a moment before heading off, Arthur beside him.

"It was the right thing to do," Arthur said.

"I know. And now my flat won't be such a mess."

Arthur sniggered.

They walked back to Merlin's car, discussing where Aithusa might do her hunting, and when they reached it, Merlin took one last look over the forest. There was Aithusa, flitting back and forth over something. Merlin imagined it might have been a rabbit, but then Kilgharrah rose up from the tree line, his wings nearly three times the size of Aithusa's whole body.

"Holy shit," Arthur said, watching as the two of them flew off in the direction of the sun, quickly becoming impossible to spot among the clouds.

Merlin grinned. "They found each other."

"Seemed like he was waiting for her."

That felt right. "Maybe," Merlin agreed. "Dinner?"

"Dinner," Arthur said, and they got back into Merlin's car to drive to Arthur's cottage.

  
~~~~  


The coronation was a thing of beauty. Arthur looked splendid, magnificent, and beautiful. His wings were on proud display, and he looked like he had been made to take up the crown.

Merlin watched it in Ealdor with his mum, doing his best to act like he wasn't in a secret relationship with the king. He trusted his mother, but he wasn't going to tell anyone without talking it over with Arthur first.

He stayed the weekend in Ealdor, avoiding all of the official coronation celebrations back in London. He kept an eye on his mobile the whole time, hoping for any news from Arthur, hoping for anything at all, but he received no texts. He knew Arthur was beyond busy, but he couldn't help but be a little disappointed.

On Sunday afternoon, Arthur was scheduled for a televised speech, his first address as king. Merlin watched it on Hunith's sofa, curled up under a blanket with a mug of tea and a plate of biscuits.

Merlin didn't recognise the room where Arthur's speech was being filmed. He assumed it was somewhere deep in Buckingham Palace and wondered how uncomfortable Arthur was with holding his first address in the same place his mostly estranged father had died just months before.

He started his speech by thanking everyone who had been supporting him over the past few days, all the people who had sent their prayers, all the nations that had wished him luck. He waxed on about tradition and the importance of partnerships and maintaining a united people. He spoke of how he wanted his coronation to be a symbol of hope for a brighter future.

"There is also this," he concluded. "Starting today, in all the places I have the right to declare, the ban on magic is lifted. The ban was put into place to protect our lives and our country, but it is my sincere belief that these concerns were misplaced. Magic is a gift, innate to those lucky enough to be born with it, and we should honour and support and be grateful for it. There was long ago a strong partnership between the crown and those with magic, and I would see these partnerships reborn under my reign.

I know that the magical community has suffered these past decades, that there is a culture of distrust and apprehension, shame and malice, fear and anxiety. It is my promise today that I will work to reforge these communities, to ensure the safety of all magic users, and to build a new world where everyone is accepted and treated equally in the eyes of the law."

Arthur paused there, and Merlin exhaled, utterly stunned.

"Merlin," Hunith said slowly, speaking over the end of Arthur's speech, "does the king know you have magic?"

Merlin nodded helplessly. Hunith shook her head, speechless.

Arthur said some other things about gratitude, cherishing the memories of his coronation, and pledging himself to the service of his people. Then the address was over and the newscasters came on for their hot takes on Arthur's announcement.

"I have to go," Merlin said, mostly to himself. "I have to go."

"Go where?"

"Home," Merlin said, although he had no intention of going back to his flat. He stood and hurried to give his mum a kiss on the cheek. "It's been a lovely weekend," he said, setting down his tea. "Thank you for having me."

"Merlin, what…"

"I'll phone you," he called out as he grabbed his bag from his old room. "I just—I have to go."

He gave her another kiss and then dashed out to his car. He drove straight to Kensington Palace, hoping he was right in assuming that Arthur would be there and waiting for him.

The guard at the police gate waved him through immediately, and Merlin sped past the palace to Arthur's cottage. He parked in a haste and ran up to the front door, banging on it with his fist.

Arthur opened the door, and Merlin fell into his arms, giving him a breathless kiss.

"I can't fucking believe you," he murmured as Arthur enveloped him in a hug with both his arms and his wings.

Arthur pulled Merlin inside, pressing him against the door and giving him a long, unhurried kiss.

"Did you like your surprise?"

"I hated every word of it."

Arthur chuckled and pressed his forehead to Merlin's.

"I love you," he whispered. "I love everything you've taught me. Thank you for teaching me."

Merlin cupped Arthur's cheeks and pulled him in for a soft kiss. "I love you, too. Thank you for being open. Thank you for being you."

Arthur grinned, and they stood there together, wrapped in each other, until the moment passed.

"How was your weekend?" Arthur asked.

"Boring. How was yours?" Merlin asked with a smile.

"Stressful. It's over, now."

"Can I wear your crown?"

Arthur laughed and pulled Merlin into the living room where they cuddled up together on one of the sofas.

"Trust me, you don't want to wear it. It's dreadfully heavy. And it doesn't really go with anything. I mean, did you see the get-up I had to wear with it?"

Merlin grinned and buried his head in Arthur's neck, pressing a kiss there. "You looked marvellous."

"I missed you," Arthur said, tugging on Merlin's hair and bringing him up for a proper kiss. "A lot."

"Want me to make it worth the wait?" Merlin asked, sliding a hand up the inside of Arthur's thigh.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Arthur grinned and stood, pulling Merlin up with him and guiding him into the bedroom. "Show me what your magic can do."

Merlin laughed and pushed Arthur's trousers to the floor with a flick of his wrist.

[ ](https://imgur.com/ZQQdduJ)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember to go leave some love on LFB's art post: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/25832560>. She did a wonderful job and this story wouldn't have come to life without her :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art: Hope is the thing with feathers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25832560) by [LFB72](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LFB72/pseuds/LFB72)




End file.
